Outcast
by Angelsaurus
Summary: How could this school, this St. Hetalia Academy, be so universally lauded when I had never heard it spoken of before? It sounded more like a secret society than a school to me.
1. Introduction

Free Talk: This is just the intro to an AU I've had cooking in my head for a while. There will be more.

**Outcast**  
By Angelsaurus

Introduction

I had always thought of myself as being very lucky. After all, I was the only child of parents who were generous with their time and their love, adored and doted upon as if I were a little prince. Mom and Dad were not rich, but we lived well, in a beautiful log house that was hand built by my great-grandfather, and I was never for want of anything. The teachers at my elementary school told me I was clever and good and the girls in my classes told me I was cute. And I ate it up, believed every word.

I lived the first fifteen years of my life behind a curtain of ignorance, knowing only love and nothing of hate or cruelty. I was a naïve and self-absorbed boy who believed that people were basically good, and although I'd only encountered evil in works of fiction, I felt confident that if I were ever to come face-to-face with the real thing I would recognize it immediately. But of course, I never imagined that a gentle and lovable child like me would ever have to make such an assessment.

The day my world began to change came in the late spring when my final year of middle school was nearing a close. Winters in Finland were long and cold, and while I loved the snow and all the festivities surrounding Christmas, I welcomed the thaw and the flowers bursting into bud like lifelong friends that I hadn't seen for a full year.

This was going to be a good summer; I could feel it in the core of me. It was, in a way, the last summer of childhood. Come September, I would be enrolled in the public high school preparing for entrance into a university. For the first time in my life I would have to think about my future, a career.

But it still felt like a lifetime away. Three sun-drenched months stretched in front of me like a long hiking trail that meandered over the landscape and disappeared into the forest. No end in sight. My intention was to spend as many days as I could outside and barefooted, camping and fishing with my friends, laughing carefree with the local girls in their pretty summer dresses. I might lose their favor to manlier males once they got older and less intimidated, but for now I was quite popular. I was going to revel in all the pleasures my splendid little town had to offer.

It was on the last day of classes that the letter came.

I was brimming with excitement as I pushed open the big wooden door of our house, itching to shed the cumbersome school bag from my shoulder and shove it to the deepest recess of my closet to be forgotten until September. When I passed through the entranceway and stepped into the kitchen I found my mother standing still as a statue, an unfolded piece of white paper clutched in her slender fingers holding her attention hostage.

"Mom?" I said in a quiet tone that would announce my presence without alarming her.

"Hi," she greeted in a perfunctory sort of way that didn't require her to look up. Whatever was on that sheet of paper must have been of grave importance as the flour on her apron and half-mixed bowl of… something on the counter indicated she paused mid-recipe to read it. Mom was the type who very rarely let anything distract her from her favorite activity, cooking.

"Is something wrong?" I asked timidly.

She said nothing but her pupils continued to trace lines of text that I couldn't see. It was too early to be my marks for the year, and besides, I always did exceptionally well in school. I turned to the torn envelope on the kitchen table for clues. There was no return address, no destination address or postage either- it must have been hand delivered. There was only one thing written on the envelope, my name.

"Mom! Am I in trouble?" It was such an unusual occurrence for me to get a letter that I couldn't even be upset with my mother for opening it out of shear curiosity.

Finally she looked up, as if she'd just been snapped out of a hypnotist's trance. Her amethyst eyes were glazed thickly with unshed tears of… Joy? Despair? I couldn't tell when she was acting so strange. Dread pooled in my belly, threatening to overflow until I saw the apples of her cheeks round in elation and a grin spread wide across her face.

"Oh Tino! Tino! Tino!" she chimed, her blonde curls shaking with emotion as she pulled me into an embrace.

"Did you get some good news?" I asked as I tried to turn my body around in her grip enough to read the paper she still held as she hugged. But the question just made her squeeze tighter and kiss my forehead several times.

"Not good news, son. Great news!" she chirped. "And it is for you, Tino!" She pulled back and held me by my shoulders, freely crying now. "You, Tino, have been accepted into St. Hetalia Academy for Boys. Isn't it wonderful?"

I stared back at her, blinking, and on her face I could read that she really did expect me to mirror her enthusiasm. But I had never even heard of this school. How could I possibly get excited about it?

"Mom, what is St. Het… whatever's Academy for Boys?"

"St. Hetalia," she corrected first. "It is only the finest educational institution for young men in the entire world! Where future Presidents and Prime Ministers from all nations are taught!" The way she spoke of this school reminded me of young girl describing her first crush. It seemed almost daffy to me.

"But… I don't even remember applying to St. Hetalia," I said, very confused.

Mom chortled as if I had just said something ridiculous. "Tino dear, you don't _apply_ to St. Hetalia. If you have the right qualifications they will _find_ you. The admissions board scours the globe to find the best and brightest and only a handpicked few are allowed to matriculate." She paused to beam the widest, proudest smile I had ever seen at me. "And you, my brilliant Tino, have been chosen."

I opened my mouth to say something, but was pulled against her petite frame in another smothering hug before I could even make a croak. How could such a tiny woman be so strong? Of course, I was delicate-boned myself, not exactly hard to restrain.

When she finally released me, I staggered back a step, my brain trying to cobble back together what thoughts her arms had squeezed out. "I… I'll have some time to decide if I want to go, right Mom?" I had intended it to sound very calm and casual, but it came out as a nervous stutter nonetheless.

The way she reacted made it clear that it didn't matter what tone I'd used. She looked at me like I'd just disowned her, or maybe just slapped her in the face- though I couldn't even imagine doing either. "Tino, how could you even think about declining such an rare honor? It's unthinkable!"

"But Mom, I…" I didn't know how to get any further than that. I'd never seen her so worked up about anything before and the shock of it disarmed me. "Well, there is _some_ time before I have to give them an answer," I sighed. "Maybe I just need to get used to the idea."

Mom shook her head and clucked, still a bit frantic. "Oh no, no, my boy. The welcoming ceremony for new students is in five days and if you do not show up, your admittance will be considered null and void. They'll give your spot to someone else, Tino."

"Five days?" I squawked, nearly choking on the words. "Summer just started! I want to play with my friends!"

At this her tense expression softened into something more gentle, wistful even, and she spoke with a voice that matched. "You aren't a little boy anymore, Tino. You are on the cusp of manhood now and it is time to live up to the greatness I see in you. Wasting one's days playing outside might be suitable for some young men, but you are special. The fact that you have been chosen by St. Hetalia is proof of that."

I was having a bit of trouble wrapping my mind around her insistence that I was special. Every child was special to his own mother. But the way she was looking at me now, with such hope and pride glittering in her pale eyes, wouldn't allow me to question her. I suppose this is what I got for a lifetime of indulgence. Being a polite and good-natured kid who got high marks had always been enough to satisfy her, so now fifteen years worth of parental pressure were being dumped onto my shoulders all at once.

"Well, I guess if this school is as remarkable as you claim…" I spoke the words slowly and let them trail off at the end, hoping this would close the conversation, at least until Dad came home.

But Mom, for whatever reason, took my vague response as an absolute acceptance and clapped her hands together in triumph. "Oh! Your father will be so thrilled. This is the grandest honor ever bestowed on our family! On our little town even!"

"Yeah," I said, smiling but putting no enthusiasm into my voice. "It's great news."

Mom didn't even seem to notice, too caught up in her private celebration.

Any hopes I had of Dad supporting my wish to choose my own school were dashed almost as soon as he walked in the door, when Mom flung herself into his arms and read the letter out loud to him. Not only was he familiar with the renowned St. Hetalia Academy for Boys- the World's Greatest School, apparently, of which I alone was unaware- but he thrilled at the news that I would be attending.

"Proudest day in a father's life," was a phrase he used more than once while the three of us sat around our little kitchen table eating dinner. He and Mom were having such a jubilant time planning out my future that it would have been rude of me to interrupt by giving my input.

I was to be a surgeon. No, lawyer. No, politician. All three! My mother was certain a St. Hetalia scholar could manage it easily.

Meanwhile I just sat silently, prodding my helping of baked fish with my fork, flaking the delicate flesh and pushing it around on the plate but not actually eating a single bite. My usual appetite just wasn't there. Funny how I never knew my parents held such grandiose aspirations for me until that letter arrived.

I actually did feel some regrets about not eating by the time I was in bed. My stomach gurgled angrily beneath my ribs at regular intervals, as if growling to me what an idiot I was. I knew, though, that even with a full belly sleep would be evasive. There were too many worries tossing in my normally carefree brain.

How could this school, this St. Hetalia Academy, be so universally lauded when I had never heard it spoken of before? It sounded more like a secret society than a school to me.

And yet that is where I would be shuttled off to in a matter of days. Days. Why did they need me there so soon? I had no idea by what means I'd be going, since I hadn't a clue to St. Hetalia location. Was it here in Finland? Probably not. Since everyone these days spoke English it didn't really matter, except that I harbored a ridiculous love for my native land and longed to stay here.

I sighed in my head and tried to self-sooth. I already knew that the time for responsibility was just around the corner. Hadn't I been reflecting on it as recently as this afternoon? It was merely coming a bit sooner than planned.

With a few unanticipated sacrifices: my summer, my friends, my hometown, the company of my loving parents… girls. The inclusion of the words "For Boys" in the name of the school was the first thing I noted when Mom shared the joyous announcement.

When I fretted over this, I could almost hear her voice in my brain. _"Girls will just distract you from your studies. There will be time for them later, but right now you are a scholar."_

Another sigh escaped me, a real one this time. She must have my best interest at heart. Always did after all. And all these questions and concerns I had I knew would go unmentioned to her or to Dad. I didn't have any fight in me. I was a good boy. If going to this school brought my parents happiness, I would go and endure it. They had made sacrifices in life to make me happy.

Even though I had made up my mind about attending St. Hetalia's without objection, my brain just couldn't seem to settle in for sleep. It kept conjuring up long dim hallways in a cloistered stone building, upper crust boys in stiffly starched uniforms blandly reciting Chaucer under the stinging gaze of a humorless professor. These were the only stock images I had for the term "boarding school." They made me feel unbearably lonely already.

I hoped more than anything that I was mistaken, but I wouldn't know for five more days. I wondered if I would get any sleep between now and then.


	2. Chapter 1

Free Talk- I was so delightfully shocked that so many people saw potential in the introduction of this story. Thank you so much for reading. Now I am really worried that the rest of the story won't live up to your expectations. I will try my best, though. Here is the first official chapter. Please tell me what you think.

**Outcast**  
By Angelsaurus

Chapter 1

The pulsing trill of the alarm clock made my body jolt. I hadn't been asleep, but I had finally settled into a comfortable position, my body too tired to twist and toss even if my brain wasn't. Still, I felt disoriented as I lifted myself clumsily up to a sit and probed the bedside table with my hand in search of the button that would silence the alarm.

It was surreal to be waking up for the day without the orange glow of sunrise pouring through my east-facing window. It was still as black as night outside; the chirps and whirs of summer insects still wove together into an endless hum that permeated the walls of the house. So this was four in the morning. The fact that I couldn't remember ever having to experience it before was probably a testament to just how spoiled I really was.

Halfway down the stairs the warm smell of puuro hit my nostrils and my stomach knotted tightly, not from hunger- last night's dinner was still being processed –but because it only now struck me how much I was going miss my mother's cooking. I had been too occupied with fretting over whether I'd be able to make friends to think about food.

Even though I wasn't hungry, I shoveled breakfast into my mouth with relish and swallowed without chewing until my stomach felt stretched and sore. I only stopped after my fourth bowl because I realized that the very real threat of throwing up would sabotage my plan to take as much of my last homemade meal with me in my belly.

The combination of too much food and not enough sleep left me dull and lethargic, and for the entire two-hour drive to Helsinki, I didn't say more than ten words. I just sat quietly in the back seat with my hands folded over my aching stomach, trying to soak in as much of my parents voices as a could, just like with the porridge. They did speak to me, but not the sorts of things that required any response.

"Oh Tino dear, you are going to have so many stories when you come home for winter holiday. I just know it. And you'll make lots of new friends, too, the sorts of friends you keep for life."

"And don't be intimidated about being at such a prestigious school," Dad told me. "You got in on your own merits just like everyone else there."

I still hadn't figured out what those merits were.

…

The train station was more crowded than I expected it to be so early in the morning, but then I hadn't really considered the fact that the summer travel season was just beginning when I'd built that expectation. Dad helped me carry my trunk, one of those big old-fashioned ones that looked like a pirate's treasure chest, to the platform that was specified in my admission letter.

That letter, which was now soft and wrinkled from passing between too many excited, sweaty hands, was clenched in my fingers. The instructions for arriving were very precisely stated, and yet they revealed very little information about where I would actually be going.

"This is the number fifteen," I said, following it with a swallow that felt like a rock sliding down my esophagus. "My train. The letter says I need to get on the ninth car behind the engine." This seemed utterly strange to me, but not to Mom and Dad.

"Car must be owned by the school," Dad said matter-of-factly. "You'll probably get some special perks on board. Try to get on well with the boys on the train, Tino. Never hurts to have friends from your homeland, especially at an international school like St. Hetalia."

His whole face was pursed and twitching slightly with obvious effort to maintain a calm expression, which made it that much harder for me to keep mine. Tears pricked the rims of my eyes. "Dad…" I muttered squeakily.

Mom was either a lot less skilled at masking her emotions or, more likely, wasn't even trying. Her cheeks sported matching trickles.

"Oh Mom," I whimpered. "I'm going to miss you so much. You're the best mom anyone could ever hope for."

The streams from her eyes flowed thicker, bending snake-like on the smooth skin of her face. "It's only because I have the best son," she said. "Be yourself and everyone will love you."

Then I felt her pick up my hand, place something in my palm and close my fingers around it. "In case you don't like the snacks they have on the train," she said softly.

I could feel the familiar shape of my favorite candy inside the cloth pouch in my hand. Salmiakki, of course. I snuffled loudly and then threw my arms around both my parents, burying my wet face between the two of them. "I'll make you guys proud. I promise." It was the last thing I said to them before climbing aboard the ninth car of train fifteen.

Waiting for me inside was… nobody. The car was empty. No other students; not even a porter. A sudden spike of panic hit me. Could I have gotten something wrong? Wrong train? Wrong car? Wrong day?

I set down my candy and fished the crumpled letter from the back pocket of my slacks where I'd stowed it. As I smoothed it out on a small table that projected from one wall, I noticed a small white rectangle in my peripheral vision. It was a card.

_Welcome Tino Väinämöinen_, was written in curly, royal blue script. Below this was a crest, embossed in silver foil, depicting a lion and an eagle facing opposite directions and clutching seven stars and seven arrows in their respective claws. The pair was encircled by tiny raised block text that read: St. Hetalia Academy for Boys • St. Hetalia Girl's Conservatoire.

Apparently there was a sister school. And I was right where I should be. Both details made my muscles unclench a bit- I hadn't even realized I was holding them so tensely.

So I slid onto one of the upholstered benches that bracketed the little table and took a good look around. There was only the one table, only the two short benches. If other students were going to board, seating would definitely be a problem. But I didn't see a single other welcome card, and that gave me the distinct impression that I would be traveling solo.

Suddenly an even more glaring absence than other passengers struck me- windows. There were no windows looking out of the train car, even though it had looked just like every other car from the outside. Instead the walls were paneled in dark wood and decorated with paintings in thick gilt frames. The one above the table, perhaps simply because it was the only painting close enough to see in detail, interested me the most.

In it, two creamy-skinned maidens sat intimately close together in a stone windowsill with a pastoral vista framed outside. The girl with golden blonde ringlets cradled the hand of the brunette in hers as she leaned close to whisper in her ear. I could tell that these ladies weren't sisters, or merely friends. I felt a warm blush in my cheeks.

There was a little brass nameplate affixed to the bottom of the frame. _Italia & Germania_ was the title of the painting. The girls were allegorical figures, two nations transformed into human bodies to express that they were as close as lovers. How ingenious!

Ingenious, but an odd substitute for windows. I wished I could have waved a last goodbye to my parents, but the fresh layer of mystery these travel arrangements cast on St. Hetalia made the overall ache of leaving them more bearable. There was a strange feeling of anticipation in the pit of my stomach, beneath a sea of puuro. After all, didn't some of my most beloved stories begin with a boy or girl leaving the familiar behind and delving into the unknown?

Maybe St. Hetalia was my Wonderland. My Hogwarts. My Oz.

I scooted up on the little bench and turned so my back was flush with the wall. For probably the first time in my life, I was glad that I had short legs. They just fit fully stretched on the bench. My breakfast had settled by now, and since there was nothing else to do I closed my eyes, and for the first time in four days, sleep made no effort to elude me.

The sound of knocking woke me up; big, loud knocking that shook the whole car as if an iron-fisted giant were pounding on the side of the train. I pitched myself upright and then stood, wobbled to the door on my stiff, baby deer legs.

The train had reached its destination, stopped, and I had slept right through it. All the other passengers must have already gotten off and I was the only one that they had to send someone to retrieve. And making the situation even more embarrassing was the fact that I knew I was disheveled. I could feel my hair sticking out from my head at weird angles and when I ran my fingertips over my cheek I felt the telltale crease marks where sleeping faced had pressed against the wrinkled sleeve of my shirt.

I tried to smooth down my hair before opening the door but it just sprang right back up. This was so not St. Hetalia decorum. Wait. What was I saying? I'd never even seen this school. What did I know about their decorum?

I slid the door open expecting to see a bustling train station, and probably a seriously irritated porter. What greeted me instead was a scene that made my mouth fall open and refuse to close- green spread out in every direction until it met the blue sky in a perfect seam between Heaven and Earth. Hanging high above the horizon, barely visible, were the faint jagged outlines of purple-blue mountains.

And all this grandiose background threw into stark contrast the strange little man, dressed in black, who was standing right in front of me.

"Tino Väinämöinen?" he asked in a dry, impassive voice.

"Y-yes," I answered, fighting against the distractive power of the landscape to give him my attention.

He nodded his small, square head. "Right this way." He made a sweeping gesture with his hand and I stepped cautiously out onto the little platform of grey stones and mortar that he stood on, which lined up impeccably with the door to the ninth car. The moment both of my feet were planted on the platform, the door behind me closed with a loud clack that made my spine snap rod straight. Then the train pulled away with a groan, quickly gaining speed as it moved, less than ten centimeters from my back.

And then the train was gone and it was just me and the strange man. Nobody else got off here.

He definitely was strange. At first glance I'd thought he was just a hair shorter than me, but now I noticed for the first time that he was perched on top of my big brown trunk and was actually much shorter. He was an older man with dull grey eyes and lower eyelids that drooped slightly revealing their moist pink rims. From his bowler hat to his wingtip shoes, the man wore nothing but black. He even had black gloves.

"Shall we be on our way, MisterVäinämöinen?" he said in that same emotionless voice.

I bobbed my head twice. "Right."

The man in black hopped off of the trunk and before I could reach for one of its handles he hoisted it up onto his back as if it were no heavier than a pillow. Five stone steps joined the platform to the grass. He descended them deftly with his burden and I followed without saying a word.

There was a shimmering black automobile idling a few meters away, and though I wasn't into car makes and models the way some boys were, I could tell that it was a very nice car- a Rolls Royce maybe. The little man loaded my trunk into the rear hatch effortlessly and then opened a passenger door for me. The door closed and a minute later the car was moving.

The backseat of the car was partitioned off from the front and the windows were all blackened. Just like on the train, there was no way of seeing out and I was alone with no idea where I was going. If the first leg of my journey hadn't been so bizarre, I would probably have mistaken this part for a continuation of whatever dream I was having while I slept. Now the trip had crossed the strangeness event horizon, the point where a situation became so out of the ordinary that you couldn't _not_ be excited. Once a certain number of unbelievable things have happened you can believe that anything might happen.

No ordinary school would ever go to such ridiculous lengths to keep their location a mystery.

I jittered my leg, a nervous habit that sometimes reared its head when I was especially eager. But it didn't make the drive go any quicker. It seemed to drag on for hours and hours, longer than the drive from home to Helsinki. Even my stomach, which I thought would be busy with breakfast until well into tomorrow, started purring to be filled again. I still had the salmiakki Mom made, but I was determined to save it and cherish it.

Then suddenly the car began to bump and pitch like a little boat on a choppy sea. The terrain had changed. We must have reached those purple-blue mountains that looked impossibly far away from the field where we started. And the ride only got bumpier, to the point where I couldn't tell the little growls of hunger in my stomach from the sloshing caused by bouncing in my seat. I was glad I hadn't eaten any of my candy because if I had it would probably be a black puddle on my lap or the floor by now.

The rough portion of the drive lasted almost as long as the smooth part until, just as abruptly as it had changed before, the road changed back and the bouncing stopped. The last ten minutes or so of the ride was as smooth as if we were gliding over a frozen lake on ice-skates.

At last the car stopped, but the funny little driver didn't cut the engine. Was this really the end of the long, long trip that I'd been dreading and then anticipating?

I sat still in my seat until the door opened with a click and the little man in black gestured for me to get out. My trunk was already waiting on the grass so I climbed out to join it. The little man nodded politely and tipped his hat at me then hurried back to the driver's seat and zoomed off without a second glance.

Leaving me and my luggage in what appeared to be a small clearing in the forest. I didn't see anyone else waiting with yet another means of transportation and figured this must be the end of the line. But where was the school?

A quick three-sixty assessment of my surroundings revealed trees, enormous conifers all around except for a small gap where a dirt road threaded through. And fog, a knee-high soup of it that seemed to growing thicker. Or maybe that was just an effect of the sky growing darker. It was early evening now and either clouds had rolled in or we had rolled into them tinting everything below an eerie bluish green.

My heart thudded against the inside of my ribcage. Where was the school? I saw fog, trees, mountains rising behind them, but absolutely no St. Hetalia Academy.

An icy claw gripped my chest. Oh God! There was no school! This was just some horrible and drawn out ruse. I was brought all the way out to this forest for some other purpose. My imagination went wild. Maybe I was going to be hunted for sport, out in the wilderness where nobody would hunt the hunters. Or maybe I'd just be left here to be torn apart by savage animals, either before or after I'd starved to death.

There was rustling in the forest.

This time my heart leapt into my throat and stayed there, squirming like a fat toad caught in muddy hands.

A dark shape emerged from the shadow between two massive tree trunks, and a few meters away, another. I spun around and saw them all around me, cloaked and hooded figures stepping out of the woods and moving closer, surrounding me. I counted eight, eight of whatever these were, closing in fast.

My only instinct was to drop to the ground, cower in fear and plead for my life. I'd changed my mind- I didn't want Hogwarts or Oz or Wonderland. I wanted to go to a regular high school in Finland with my friends. No wonder I had never heard of St. Hetalia. Nobody had ever come back! All eaten by witches like I was about to be!

The circle was so close and tight now that there was no room to try to make a run for it even if I could figure out how to make my legs work. "Please! Don't kill me! Please!" I sobbed as I stared at the shadows where their faces should have been. "I'm a good kid! I… I was supposed to be going to this school and… If you spare me I will sing your praises for the rest of my life! I will do anything you ask! Please!"

But the only sound from beneath their hoods was slow, heavy breathing as they moved in that last step that made their shoulders touch.

With no reason left to save it, I grabbed my little pouch of salmiakki and smashed a handful into my mouth, so many pieces that I couldn't close my jaw fully as I chewed. At least I would die with the taste of my favorite confection still on my tongue.

"Ooh! What's that you're eating? Is it any good?"

My eyes darted up to the cloaked figure that the surprisingly chipper voice had come from. Then another one spoke, this one with a thick French accent.

"Can we take off the hoods now? There is romance in the air tonight and I have better places to be than spooking the new guy."

"Must we continue to greet every new student this way?" a third asked wearily. "Hasn't the joke worn out yet, America-san?"

"Alright, I guess we've scared him enough," the one directly in front of me said. Then he pushed off his hood and smiled at me.

He wasn't a monster or a witch. He was, quite shockingly, a teenage boy. Baby blue eyes sparkled playfully behind his wire-frame glasses. This had all been a big joke to him. But it was hard for me to feel anger towards him, to feel any emotion other than the numb relief washing through me.

I tried to say something but my cheeks were still packed with licorice and I only produced a garbled croak.

The other figures had removed their hoods just like the first boy and I found myself no longer surrounded by eight ghouls but by eight young men. The one standing just right of the one with glasses had sandy hair and bushy eyebrows and wore a disdainful expression.

"Allow me to apologize for our president," he said in a British accent. "He is, to put it mildly, an _insufferable prat_."

That didn't sound mild to me at all. I'd managed to swallow my mouthful of candy and I looked back to the boy with glasses. He was smiling somewhat sheepishly and scratching his neck.

"He just says that because he's jealous that I'm Student Council President and he's just my Vice President. I really didn't expect you to get so scared though. Sorry kid."

I stared at him incredulously. "You… You're the Student Council President? Of St. Hetalia Academy for Boys?"

He beamed at me. "That's right. My name is the United States of America, but you can just call me America. And you must be our new Finland."

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 2

Free Talk: Th-thank you for all of the kind feedback. Really, I can't express how grateful I am that people actually read the things that I write. This chapter turned out long, I hope not _too_ long. I have a tendency to write really long chapters and worry endlessly that the readers will get bored. But there is a lot to digest in this chapter and I hope it turned out good. It was a lot of fun to write more characters. Please continue to support me and tell me what you think. Thank you!

**Outcast**  
By Angelsaurus

Chapter 2

Had he just referred to me as 'Finland?' Under different circumstances I might have dismissed it as a mere fumble of language, a slip of the tongue. But the fact that he had claimed United States of America as his own name indicated that something else was definitely going on here.

"I'm Tino Väinämöinen," I said, hoping to get the full story right away.

"That's just your real name," the boy said casually. "We don't use them here at St. Hetalia. We call each other by the names of our countries, sort of like code names. Your name here is Finland."

Using code names was I twist I never would have expected at a prestigious private school. That whole secret society theory loomed in the back of my brain. But when I took into account the nature of my welcoming committee I had to concede that it was more likely that this was all part of an elaborate, ongoing prank. Playing the fool and going along with it, and then reacting with surprise and amusement at the reveal might be the best path towards being accepted.

"So you said that you were America, right?" I asked.

"That's right," he said, emphasizing it with a thumbs-up and a flash of his straight white teeth. "Born and raised in Queens New York. I've seen all fifty great states while on vacation with my folks, and I've eaten a hamburger in every single one, my proudest achievement."

If this guy was acting, he was definitely what you'd call a large ham. I turned my attention next to the boy on his right, now rolling his green eyes and muttering something under his breath in his distinct British accent. "Would you happen to be England then, Vice President?" I asked, a bit timidly as I was not quite sure if this was an inappropriate question.

He turned his eyes on me and his cynical expression softened into a restrained smile. "The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland to be more precise. But yes, I do rather prefer the name England. Much easier on the tongue. Charmed to meet you, Finland." Then he added in a wry tone, "If I were Student Council President your welcoming party would have been much more civilized, I assure you."

Having been in their presence for only a matter of minutes, I could already feel a dense aura of animosity between the President and the Vice President, but being the new kid I knew better than to ask for the story behind it. There were still six others here that I had yet to meet. "So the rest of you…" I began, a bit shyly, not wanting to be rude in any way.

America thumped his forehead with the ball of his hand. "What am I thinking? I forgot to introduce the rest of the Student Council. Alright, starting clockwise from my immediate left we have our Secretary, Japan."

The somewhat small Japanese boy wore a calm and serious expression and bowed quickly at the waist after his introduction. "Welcome, Finland-san."

I'd heard his voice before. He had added the same –san to America's name as he had to mine.

"Japan is all about politeness," America said as if he'd read the curiosity on my face. "That's why he does all the bowing and the –san stuff. Okay, moving right along we have our Treasurer, France."

"Bonjour Monsieur Finland," he said, sweeping a thick strand of wavy blond hair behind his ear. "I am, how you say, ze romantic of the school. But perhaps I should let you discover zis on your own." He immediately dropped down to one knee, picked up one of my hands and pressed a kiss to the knuckles.

Little groans came from all around the circle, and someone, I couldn't tell who, uttered, "Give it a rest already, Casanova." To me it had seemed like an ordinary French affectation, or maybe just a part of the joke, but apparently they knew something I didn't.

"Next to France is Russia," America continued. "He's our Chief Enforcer."

I eyed the towering young man, the tallest and strongest-looking teenager I'd ever seen, and swallowed nervously. What exactly was it that he enforced? This guy looked like he could snap me in half like a toothpick.

But he smiled at me in a friendly way and extended a giant hand for me to shake. "If you don't break the school rules, you won't have to deal with me. We'll get along just fine."

"Yes, Sir," I said automatically.

As these introductions were being made, I was scrawling down notes in my head to help me remember everyone. America: President, enthusiastic. England: Vice President, dry-witted. Japan: Secretary, polite. France: Treasurer, romantic. Russia: Enforcer, huge.

"The guy with the permanent frown is Chief Data Officer, Germany." Germany just gave a quiet grunt at America's introduction. "And the cheerful guy hanging off his arm is Italy. And that just leaves our Historian, China." China, a gentle-looking boy, nodded serenely. "And those are all the members of the St. Hetalia Student Council."

Hadn't he forgotten something? Germany: Data Officer, serious. China: Historian, graceful. Italy… "Excuse me," I said. "But I don't think you mentioned what Italy's office is."

America blinked at me from behind his shiny glasses then gave a soft chuckle. "Oh right, Italy. He doesn't actually have an office in the Student Council. He's more like a mascot really. You see, he came attached to Germany so we sort of think of him as Germany's pet."

My eyes darted back to Italy, expecting him to be upset by the comparison, but he looked as cheerful as a puppy, tugging on Germany's arm while a wayward curl of his auburn hair bobbed like a wagging tail. "Hey Germany," he cooed. "Germany, what kind of pasta do you think they'll have in the cafeteria tonight? Are you listening to me?"

It made me think of that painting on the train car.

At this point I probably would have asked more of the many questions I had, but my stomach had heard the word 'pasta' and was now growling to be filled, making it difficult to organize any other thoughts.

Right on cue, America spoke. "Well, it's getting awfully close to dinnertime so let's get this show on the road."

"Yes," England said sarcastically. "Because god forbid you should ever be late to a meal."

"If you were cooking, I'd just skip it completely," America cheerily retorted, and nobody else even batted an eye. This was either carefully rehearsed or it was how these two normally treated each other. I wasn't sure which prospect made me more nervous. "So Finland," America said, turning to me. "Are you ready to see your home for the next three years?"

"Definitely," I replied. I had been ready since before nearly having a heart attack from fright, but it would probably be prudent to forgive and forget that part. "So, uh, how far is it to the school?"

He grinned boyishly and gave me a wink. "You didn't think we'd have you dropped off too far away, did you, kid? It's just past those trees." He pointed, and I looked, but I didn't see any sign of a school, just forest. Then he barked out a laugh, slapped his arm over my shoulders with enough force to make me stagger and started to lead me in the direction he'd pointed. "Just stick with us and you'll see. Russia, bring the kid's trunk."

From under his cloak, England produced a handheld lamp and turned it on as he walked at the front of the group into the woods. America–and me still pinned tightly at his side–followed next, and behind us, the others. I got the feeling that that Russia guy could carry my trunk as easily as a normal-sized teenager carries a lunch box, so I wasn't too worried about it being a burden.

It was dark enough under the trees that I could only see within the sphere of pale yellow light cast by England's lamp, which America and I walked barely inside of. We didn't seem to make any turns, just a straight path between the trees until England came to a halt in front of a rock that was taller than he was.

When we reached him we stopped too, and America took his hand off my shoulder. I watched as England set down his lamp and the two of them put all four of their hands on the side of the monolith.

"Push on three," England said. The friendliness in his voice surprised me after witnessing his previous attitude towards the President. It only lasted briefly, however.

"Wait, do you mean _on_ three like one, two, push? Or on three like one, two, three, _then_ push?"

England groaned at the question and in a sour tone answered, "Just push now, you dolt."

The two boys' backs bent in exertion, their arms quivered and their jaws clenched. It seemed like a losing battle to me; just from a visual inspection I would guess that the rock weighed at least a ton, maybe two. But to my utter amazement, the rock moved and the ground shook with a deep sound like the Earth was clearing her throat.

Looking closer, I realized that it wasn't the whole rock that was being displaced, just the front slab, about fifteen centimeters thick, which was a separate round disc of stone. It was still obviously heavy, though, because it took considerable effort for America and England to roll it out of the way. When they were finished and breathing heavily from the task, I couldn't help gaping in awe at the dark cavern they'd unsealed.

"A secret passageway," I marveled out loud, realizing afterwards how childish I must sound but not really caring. "So this is how we get to the school."

"Indeed," England said as he picked his lamp back up and plunged into the black tunnel. "Step lively now."

I hurried in after him, wanting to stay within range of the light. Almost immediately upon stepping inside, I felt the ground beneath my feet slope dramatically downward. We were heading deep underground for this trek.

"Don't worry, kid," America said from somewhere behind me. "This tunnel is a one-way street so you won't get lost. Put one hand on the wall if that helps."

I took the advice and placed a hand on the craggy rock wall, dragging it along as I continued the descent. The silence, save for nine pairs of shoes clopping out of rhythm, made me uneasy for some reason. "So the school is underground?" I asked to alleviate it.

"You'll see in about two minutes," America said.

We wouldn't have to be in here too much longer. Good. That made me feel a bit less claustrophobic. Then suddenly something snagged my elbow and my skeleton nearly jumped out of my skin. I couldn't even breathe in enough air to fuel a scream.

"S-sorry," a voice said sheepishly. It was Italy. "I just wanted to ask you if you have any more of the candy you were eating."

"Oh, you mean salmiakki? Yeah, I've got more." I found my little pouch, only half-full now, and fished out a piece. "My mother made them. Their my favorite."

A few seconds after handing it to him I heard a squeal of shock. "Ew! It's salty! This candy is yucky!"

His unrestrained disgusted jabbed me like a small knife between my ribs. That was my beloved candy, made by my even more beloved mother, and even though I knew that Italy hadn't meant to hurt me with his reaction I felt it was my duty to respectfully defend the salmiakki. I opened my mouth and moistened my lips with my tongue but a sudden shimmer of orange ahead caught my eye and I forgot whatever it was I was planning to say.

"Whoa…"

I had entered the tunnel in the middle of the forest and was now exiting it onto the pebbled shore of an enormous oblong lake. The tangerine-colored sunset reflected off the rippling surface as a hundred-thousand sparkles that forced me to squint, but I could still make out one concentrated point of white light on the far bank. Could that be…?

"That's the girls' school," America said, interrupting my thought with another of his unintentionally brutal slaps on the back. "Ours is right there." He hitched his thumb behind and to the left.

And I turned and saw St. Hetalia Academy for Boys for the first time.

Behind us was a soaring cliff wall–the expanse of rock above the hole we'd come out of and the distant hint of trees at the very top ledge exposed just how deep we had really traveled. And nestled into recess where the cliff pulled away from the lakeshore was the strangest, loveliest building I had ever seen.

Big as a castle, it was built on a massive foundation of suitcase-sized stone bricks. But above that there was no unified style. Some parts were made of brick, others of wood, and others of what looked like concrete. Likewise, there were elements that seemed to originate from very disparate parts of the world, Greek columns alongside Chinese corbels and gothic buttresses. But oddly, it all flowed seamlessly and blended into what could have been mistaken for the architecture of some great fictional civilization.

"Wow," I breathed, eyes stretched open wide to take it all in. "It's incredible."

"Pretty cool, huh?" America asked. "Now come on, let's get you moved in."

My enthusiasm was fully restored to what it had been in the backseat of the black car and I walked, almost fast enough to qualify as running, to the stairs and up them. Before any of the members of the Student Council, I reached the top of the foundation, which formed a terrace in front of the school's main doors. It would be rude of me to barge into the school without my escorts, so I had to wait.

There was a small monument sprouting up in the middle of the terrace, like a flat-topped obelisk was buried deep into the foundation and only the topmost portion poked through. On the top surface there were words chiseled.

_"We laid this Foundation Stone so that our dream might live forever, so that we might live forever."_

"I see you are admiring the Foundation Stone," a gentle voice spoke from beside me. It was the Historian, China, with that Zen-like expression still on his face. "This was the very first stone the St. Hetalia founders laid down nearly five-hundred years ago. Their dream was to teach the whole world here in one school. Every nation in harmony."

The words echoed inside my head: _Every nation in harmony_. So the code names weren't a prank after all.

I let my fingertips trace the engraved letters, still sharp and clear after almost five centuries. Beneath the quote, the school's official seal was carved into the Foundation Stone, the lion and eagle in relief and the seven stars and seven arrows recessed, giving them particular emphasis.

"They are the most important elements of the seal," China explained. "The seven stars represent the seven Founders of St. Hetalia. The seven arrows are the seven offices of the Student Council."

I looked at him and he smiled enigmatically. Then he pushed the black cloak off of his shoulders to reveal the school's uniform–plaid slacks, white shirt, tie, sweater-vest, blue blazer–and affixed to his lapel was a pin in the shape of a golden arrow.

"All of the members wear one," he said.

Just like the nation names, this must be another one of the school's traditions, meant to preserve the original dream of its founders. It really was unlike any other school in the world. It _was_ the world.

"You'll have plenty of time to explore the school later," said America, who had appeared next to me without me even realizing it. "Right now your roommate is waiting."

Immediately my mind snapped back to the present. "My roommate?" I asked, a small twinge of nervousness in my voice. "Is he… nice?"

America gave a smile that was almost cocky. "Of course he's nice. We wouldn't put you with someone who wasn't."

Then he led the way, marching proud as a king, through the arched double doors into the school. It was as beautiful on the inside as it was from the outside, but I didn't dare dawdle. I just marveled at what I could while keeping pace with the President and his entourage–paintings, sculptures, elegant chandeliers, ornate staircases, marble floors, and too many other wonderful sights to even keep track of. I would never be able to find my way back out as I wasn't paying any attention to where we were going.

America finally stopped in front of a wooden door. "Alright, this is your room. We'll let your roommate take it from here. He's agreed to take you down to dinner and then give you the grand tour. He'll show you the ropes and answer all your questions. But if there is ever anything he can't help you with, you can find us in the farthest room down the west hall on the second floor. Our doors are always open."

"Wait, you're leaving already?" I asked. "What about the welcoming ceremony?"

"You've just been through it, kid," America said. "The welcoming ceremony here at St. Hetalia is when the Student Council members greet new students in the woods and bring them through the doors. That's it."

My eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "But, what about the other new students? Do you have to greet them all separately?"

"There are no other new students," said America. "Just you."

"What? But… why?"

There was a moment of silence after I'd said it, and when I scanned the faces of the eight young men surrounding me there was a vague somberness coloring all of them. Even plucky Italy and zealous America weren't smiling.

"Because we only needed a Finland," America said in a softer voice than he'd used all evening. "But don't worry about it, kid. Get yourself settled and we'll see you in the cafeteria, alright?"

"Alright," I answered in a tone that matched his. I had no idea what had caused the mood to change so swiftly, but they were leaving now so it would be pointless to try and undo it. "Thank you very much for bringing me here," I added graciously. "I promise to do my best to uphold the values of St. Hetalia Academy."

Seven of them just nodded kindly as they started to walk away, but China came up to me and put a gentle hand on my shoulder. "I know you will," he said, smiling with wise, dark eyes. "You are a good boy and you belong here. Welcome home, Finland."

As they all drifted away, I heard Italy's voice, jubilant once again. "Pasta time! What are you going to get, Germany? Wurst? Weiners?" The rest disappeared when they turned a corner.

So I turned and faced the door. I wished they had at least stuck around long enough for me to meet my roommate, maybe give me an endorsement. _"Hey, this is Finland. He'll be living with you from now on. He's a bit scatterbrained at times but he's a good kid. Didn't even wet his trousers when we surrounded him in our cloaks."_

What was I so worried about? Rejection? I had never worried a day in my life about rejection. But then, everyone knew each other from childhood in my little town. If someone didn't want to play with me I would find someone else who would that day. Whoever this boy behind the door was, he and I would be seeing each other every day and wanted desperately for him to be a true friend.

My hand shook as I extended it towards the knob. But the knob suddenly pulled away and I let out a sharp little gasp. The door opened on it's own. Well, not really on it's own, but by the boy I would be living with from now on.

"H-hello," I greeted nervously. I had wanted to project confidence but my tongue didn't feel like cooperating with that plan.

The boy framed in the doorway was tall and handsome, with cobalt blue eyes and ash blond hair that was spiked with pomade. His clothes were casual, jeans and a t-shirt rather than the school uniform that the Student Council members were wearing. He looked at me for a moment, blinked, and then his face lit up in a grin that reminded me a little bit of the President. "You must be Finland. Come on in. This is your room too now."

His friendliness put me immediately at ease, so much that I felt silly for worrying about it in the first place. He even helped me bring in my trunk. The room was surprisingly spacious. Between the two beds, one already made and one with fresh linens folded at its foot, was a wide, open space. There were two identical desks with identical chairs and lamps, and two identical dressers. Mine had a new school uniform, neatly folded, on top.

"I'm Denmark, by the way," my roommate said after closing the door behind us. "You and me are going to be best friends, I can already tell."

Maybe he was even _too_ friendly. I wasn't quite sure how to respond to him; it felt like anything I said wouldn't be enough to match his hospitality. "Well," I said thoughtfully. "Since we are going to be roommates and friends then you should probably know that my real name…"

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Denmark interrupted with enough fervor to make me flinch.

"Did… did I say something wrong?" I asked, horrified.

He combed his fingers through his hair and shook his head, sighing lightly. "Sorry, sorry. You just got here so of course you wouldn't know, but here at St. Hetalia, calling a guy by his real name is a pretty big deal, definitely not something to take lightly."

"I see," I said, nodding. I was glad I was learning about this now before I had a chance to make a major faux pas.

"Our nation names are our public identities here," he explained. "Calling someone by his real name in public is a major disrespect, like a slur. But in private it indicates a very high level of intimacy. Inviting a guy to call you by your real name is tantamount to a love confession."

Love confession? Embarrassment flooded me. Even though I had the excuse of not knowing better, I was mortified to think of what my statement would have implied to this boy I'd just met. My whole face felt hot.

"Aw, don't worry about it," he said, reaching out to ruffle my hair. "Do you mind if I call you, Fin?"

"I… I guess not," I said, avoiding eye contact like I was allergic to it.

"Great," he said cheerfully. "And you can call me 'Denny' if you'd like. Don't have to, of course, but you can. Aw, are you still blushing? Man, you're cute, Fin. I wouldn't be surprised if you get asked out your first week here."

That got my eyes to fly up and meet his. "Asked out?" I croaked. "You mean by one of the girls from across the lake? They… they ask the boys out here?"

Denmark's lips squeezed tightly, twitching at the corners, but soon burst open with laughter he couldn't seem to contain. "Oh man, that wide-eyed innocence is going to be a big draw. Just watch out for France, he's a shameless flirt."

France had kissed my hand when I first met him.

My brain was starting to piece together a scenario I wasn't sure if I was ready for. I chose to ignore it, tried push it to the very back of my consciousness. Right now I only wanted to think about one thing and thankfully, my roommate was thinking about it too.

"How about we go down and get some dinner?" he said. "Having something to eat is sure to help you to relax. Just wait till you see the cafeteria."

Denmark led me through the hallways much more slowly and thoughtfully than the Student Council had. Along the way he pointed out certain features and works of art he felt were worth mentioning.

"If you get lost, Fin, just remember that our room is in the north hall on the fifth floor, third door on the left. Don't be afraid to ask someone for directions. People around here are happy to help."

I could tell when we were close to the cafeteria by the mouth-watering aromas in the air. I couldn't single out any familiar food in the potpourri of scents, but whatever was in there smelled better than anything I had anticipated. Then Denmark opened a door for me and it hit me full-strength. Maybe it was just because of how long it had been since my last meal, but at the moment I felt like I was in food heaven.

Inside it looked more like a fine dining hall in an upscale hotel than a cafeteria. The space was as big as a ballroom, with enormous, finely wrought candelabras hanging from the vaulted ceiling high above and dozens of round, mahogany tables down below. On one side of the room was a long, long table occupied by what must have been at least fifty silver platters each holding a different food. It was buffet-style dining.

"So, uh, how does this work?" I asked Denmark, following his lead and getting into the line behind him. "Do I get a bill or a meal ticket or something?"

He looked at me with amusement in his blue eyes. "You just take what you want," he said, as if it should have been obvious. "Admission to St. Hetalia is all-inclusive."

There were so many choices, foods from all over the world. I guess that made sense considering the dream the school was founded on, but I was a bit surprised that the entire student body wasn't overweight.

I was comforted to see smoked fish and other favorites of mine, but I wanted to try things I had never eaten before. I took some tuna sashimi, penne pasta in sun-dried tomato sauce, green curry chicken, and an almond croissant. And all of it was served by finely attired waiters with white gloves.

Denmark laughed when he saw my plate. "First-timers always overload. You'll give yourself a stomachache if you eat all of that, you know."

The thinking part of my brain knew, but the appetite part didn't care.

Denmark chose the table–he seemed to know exactly which one he wanted–and I sat down next to him. There were already two other boys seated here, both of them very fair-haired. They seemed mildly curious about me, but more interested in whatever they were talking to each other about.

"Iceland, Norway," Denmark addressed them, forcing them to stop talking and pay attention to him. "This is the new Finland. He's staying with me."

"Well we figured that much," said one of the boys, who had his hair pulled back on one side with a cross-shaped clip. "Nice to meet you, Finland. I'm Norway." He didn't sound very enthusiastic. Had I offended him by sitting at his table without asking?

"Welcome to the Nordic Club," the other boy, Iceland, said in a similarly indifferent tone as he plucked pumpkin seeds off a roll on his plate.

"Denmark," I whispered–calling him Denny just felt too silly. He inclined his ear to me. "Denmark, are those two mad at me?"

"Norway and Iceland?" he whispered back. "They aren't mad at you. How could they be? They just met you. Those two just haven't had time to get over the previous Finland yet. They'll come around."

I felt a hard lump in my throat that swallowing wouldn't get rid of. Whether he noticed it or not, Denmark's voice had taken on a grave tone midway through his explanation and I knew it must be for the same reason that the Student Council had become so serious when I asked why I was the only new student. It had something to do with the boy who was called Finland before me.

"The previous Finland," I asked slowly, sweaty fingers fussing with the hem of my shirt. "What happened to him?"

He swiveled his chair so that not just his face but also his body was towards me when he answered. His eyes were pained as they looked into mine. "The previous Finland…" Denmark paused hesitantly. "He committed suicide last week by hanging himself out his bedroom window."

"He… killed himself?" I squeaked. "Wh-why? Didn't anyone know that he was depressed? Didn't anyone try to help him?"

With all the luxuries I'd witnessed today, I'd forgotten that this was a serious academic institution. But I never imagined it was so demanding as to drive a kid to suicide. And he was a fellow Finn, too. I felt anguish for this boy that I'd never even met.

"He wasn't depressed," said Denmark, his voice almost a hiss now. "No, he was a kind and happy kid, like you. It was because he was roommates with _that guy_."

Venom oozed from his words, burned in his eyes. Whoever _'that guy' _was, Denmark hated him passionately. I was almost afraid of how he might answer if I asked him who, but I was too deeply interested now. I had to know.

"Who was his roommate?" My voice was nearly soundless.

But Denmark heard. His seething gaze turned to a corner of the room and mine followed. Sitting alone at a table that was shoved far away from all the others was a boy. He was looking down, hunched over his plate, so all I could see was hair, which was the color of fresh cream.

"Sweden," Denmark growled. "The outcast of St. Hetalia. He's cursed."

"Cursed?"

"He's a death bringer. People who get close to him die tragic and unusual deaths. I know it sounds like hogwash, but it's true, I swear it on my life. His parents died in a house fire when he was eight that he mysteriously survived. When he was thirteen, his childhood sweetheart drowned while they were picnicking by a stream. And last week, his perfectly happy roommate killed himself for no apparent reason."

For an instant my blood became ice water. My lungs froze in my chest and I momentarily forgot how to breathe. "How do you know all this?" I finally managed to ask, my eyes still on Sweden.

"I have my sources," Denmark said. "Look, just trust me on this one. He's not one of us and he doesn't belong here." Suddenly his tone became lighter, more like the Denmark that first greeted me in our room. "Hey, but I didn't mean to make you scared, Fin. As long as you ignore him like the rest of us do, no harm will come to you. Promise me you won't go near him, okay? I don't want to lose any more friends. Fin?"

I'd heard him, but I wasn't listening. I was still staring at Sweden, alone in his corner, as if my eyes were drawn by magnetic force. Then he looked up. Blue-green eyes, bright and stunning even from a distance and behind his black-framed glasses, met mine.

And my heartbeat stopped.

I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. He saw me staring at him so rudely but I couldn't stop. I was too scared, paralyzed with fear. I had never seen eyes so terrifying. So breathtakingly beautiful.

To be continued…


	4. Chapter 3

Free Talk: Wow... I definitely didn't expect such a positive response to this story. Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading. Thank you for all of the kind reviews. It means so much to me. Now I just I hope it can continue to live up to your comments. Oh, and I don't own the characters, of course. That is something I often forget to add to fanfics because I think it is kind of a given. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this new chapter. Please tell me what you think.

**Outcast**  
By Angelsaurus

Chapter 3

Golden liquid oozed from four little holes where I'd speared my soft-boiled egg with my fork and dribbled down the side of the eggcup. My eyes flitted away and over to the corner of the cafeteria for the fourth or fifth time since I'd entered. The far table was still deserted.

"Hey Fin, your yolk is dripping on the table."

Denmark's voice made me turn my attention back to breakfast. "Whoops," I said absently, blotting up egg with the corner of my napkin. "I guess I got distracted for a minute trying to decide if I wanted to go back for bread." I was a terrible liar, even worse when I tried to do it casually.

"I know where you were looking," Denmark said. My hands scrunched into tight, damp fists in my lap, but surprisingly I felt him pat my back, and as he continued speaking, his tone wasn't harsh. "Look, last night I think I might have scared you too much with all that curse stuff. You don't have to be on constant lookout for Sweden. If you leave him alone, he'll leave you alone."

The tension in my stomach loosened. He could tell where I was looking, but he didn't realize the reason why. Good. I definitely didn't want Denmark to know that I was searching for Sweden out of some twisted pathological need to see him that I couldn't even understand.

But those intense turquoise eyes hadn't left my mind since I first saw them at dinner last night. They were even in my dreams, reflecting the dancing red flames of a house fire, the last bubbles leaving a young girl's mouth, the dangling feet of a hanged boy. As lonely as I felt being away from my parents for the first time in my life and surrounded by boys I barely knew, Sweden was even more alone.

"He never stays for breakfast," Norway said. His voice was monotone, but he didn't seem apathetic like he had before; apparently this was just his natural speaking tone. "Sweden, that is. He just takes his food and goes somewhere else to eat it."

Denmark gave a haughty snort and tilted his chair back. "That's why breakfast is the best meal of the day. Because we don't have to look at his ugly mug."

I felt a sharp stitch in my chest. Cursed or not, I couldn't imagine how anyone could attach the word ugly to that face, to those eyes. If I were Sweden, I would probably eat all my meals alone in my room. It would be better than being surrounded by laughing, smiling peers who won't talk to me.

But of course, I was too scared to talk to him. I was no better than anyone else here.

"Alright then," Denmark said enthusiastically. "Now that you've had your first night's sleep here, Fin, it's time for your first lesson."

"Lesson?" I asked curious and slightly nervous. "But it's Sunday. Lesson's don't start until…" Then it hit me. "Oh no, this is an initiation, isn't it? Some kind of hazing?"

He laughed his booming laugh and I felt suddenly foolish. "You need to relax, Fin. We like you already. You're one of us. I just wanted to take this opportunity to fill you in on some essential information about the students of St. Hetalia."

"Oh, okay," I answered, not really sure what he was talking about.

Denmark smiled excitedly. "Okay, let's begin with the Student Council. They sit at that long table at the front."

I hadn't noticed it last night–probably because I was too distracted by all the food and by Sweden–but the seven Student Council officers, plus Italy, were seated like a royal court before their subjects. Their table was even on a platform so they sat higher than everyone else.

"Germany and Italy are obviously an item," Denmark said as if he were giving an academic lecture. I got out my mental notebook again and turned to a fresh page. "Everyone is pretty much in agreement that they are on a real name basis."

I remembered immediately what he had told me about real names and could feel the heat of a blush as I watched Italy hugging his burly companion. I wasn't quite sure how to word my next question. "So… the boys go with other boys here?"

"Why not?" Denmark asked glibly. "We only get to mingle with the girls once a month at the most, and even then there aren't enough to go around. Besides, boys do just as well as girls if you've got an itch to scratch."

This was the conclusion my brain had been trying to reach when Denmark was talking about getting asked out last night and warned me about France.

"The ironic thing about it," he continued, "is that the school used to be coed. They only sent the girls across the lake because there was too much screwing around going on and it didn't even alleviate the problem."

An itch to scratch? Screwing around? It didn't sound very romantic. "What about love?" I asked.

Denmark cocked his head to the side and lifted an eyebrow. "What _about_ love?"

This was such a weird thing to be asking, embarrassing even. "Well, do guys actually fall in love with each other? Or is it just… you know…" I couldn't say that three-letter word for fear of my face catching fire, but I am sure he knew where I was going.

"I couldn't tell you, Fin," he said with a shrug. "Never happened to me. Now, back to the Council. Opinion is divided on what's going on between The President and Vice President. If you ask me, those two are just like oil and water, incompatible. But some people are pretty convinced that all their animosity stems from unresolved sexual tension. Hate or date? There is no proof either way so I'll let you reach you own conclusion.

"As for France, it would probably be more time efficient to list the people he _hasn't_ been with, or at least made a pass at. You know what, I can't even think of any. And Japan, he may think he keeps his affairs private, but there has been more than one eye-witness account of Greece leaving his dorm in the wee small hours of the morning. If you catch my drift."

I was pretty sure that I understood what he was implying, but I was having a hard time digesting it all. I hadn't ever thought about what sorts of things the students at all-boys schools did for fun, but scandalous affairs and gossiping would never have occurred to me if I did.

And there was another feeling, besides shock, in the trench of my stomach. It was a confused sort of comfort in the fact that if he weren't a pariah, my longing for Sweden wouldn't seem so weird at this school.

Denmark's lesson continued unabated. "Russia has got two sisters, or maybe they're half-sisters–I don't remember. Anyways, they're both smoking hot, but the younger one is a certified psychopath with a bad case of fatal attraction for her big brother. And China has a lot of admirers, but he doesn't seem to favor any one of them. He has a pretty prestigious lineage, by the way. He's the direct descendant of one of the seven Founders. They say he knows all kinds of crazy Eastern magic, but I think that's probably just a load of crap."

It seemed odd to me that he so easily dismissed the idea of China possessing magic when he believed very strongly in Sweden's curse and apparently loathed him for it. I would never say anything about it, though.

After summarizing the sordid affairs of the Student Council, Denmark took his narrative around the entire cafeteria one table at a time. Some of his stories were quite ordinary–both Austria and Prussia desired the same girl, for example. And some were far from it–supposedly Switzerland had an unspeakable relationship with his stepsister and intended to elope with her after graduation.

He didn't cover every student, just those with the juiciest backgrounds. When he'd finished, though, I noticed that there was one table he had completely ignored. "What about you three?" I asked. "Do any of you Nordics have interesting situations?"

"Our records are clean," he said proudly, tucking his hands behind his head and leaning his chair back so far my stomach clenched in anticipation of a fall. "Well, Norway does talk to fairies," he said. "But that really isn't too interesting."

"His name is Poland and he's a delight once you get to know him," Norway said between silent sips of coffee.

Denmark laughed and Iceland smirked. I didn't get it.

It figured that Denmark didn't have anything to say about himself, but I had already made a somewhat startling discovery about him on my own.

…

Last night, when we returned to our shared quarters–my stomach numbingly full from dinner–I set about making my bed with Denmark's guidance. I was used to having just two sheets and a quilt on my bed back home so I actually needed the help to figure out how the five pieces of linens I'd been supplied with were meant to be installed.

"If you forget you can always cheat by taking a peek at my bed," Denmark said. "Took me a week to master, but now I make it perfect every time."

I had to look right then and see just what perfection in bed making looked like. His bed looked like it had been plucked right from the pages of a department store catalog. Impressive, but something much more interesting glinted in my peripheral vision and drew my eyes up to the wall behind his headboard.

"Is that a battleaxe?" I gasped, even though I knew, unless my eyes were deceiving me, that it was. The axe mounted on the wall–an enormous crescent of wrought iron and steel that looked well suited to a Viking conqueror–was a weapon, not a tool.

"It's a family heirloom," he said, as casually as if he was talking about a pair of cufflinks. "I brought it with me to remind me of home."

I'd brought photos of my family and friends to remind me of home. This guy brought an antique battleaxe. I was shocked that the operators of the school had allowed it, but I assuaged my fear of the weapon with the fact that it was just for decoration.

"You know, it's not just for decoration," Denmark said as soon as I had that thought, his voice now as sharp as the blade itself. "In a pinch, I know how to use that thing." I gaped at him, torn between horror and disbelief, and he continued in what he must have thought was a reassuring tone. "I'm not saying that I think I'd ever need to use it. But it's good for everyone around here to see it and know that I could."

"You wouldn't really…?" My voice sounded more like a mouse than a young man.

Denmark answered me with a hearty laugh. "Not even if I wanted to. See?" He reached for the axe's long wooden handle and tugged on it, but it didn't budge a centimeter. "The thing is bolted to the wall, only way they'd let me keep it here. But don't go blabbing that part to everyone. Intimidation is the best means of defense, Fin."

So that was his real weapon of choice. But what could he possibly need to defend against?

The blue-green eyes that hadn't strayed far from the surface of my consciousness blazed in my memory. But I was sure that Denmark couldn't possibly be that threatened by Sweden. After all, Sweden himself hadn't hurt anyone. And what good would intimidation do against a curse?

Maybe that was the whole point–an illusory weapon to protect against an illusory enemy and give an illusory sense of security.

I didn't ask him anything more about the battleaxe.

…

Denmark's frightening prized possession wasn't really on par with the scandals and intrigue he was attributing to our peers, but it was definitely the most interesting and confusing facet of his personality I'd seen so far. And he'd revealed it to me within my first twenty-four hours of knowing him.

I trusted Denmark.

During my first several weeks at St. Hetalia, I followed him around like a baby chick follows its mother. He was a year older than me, so he wasn't in any of my classes, but every day he walked me to whatever classroom I was supposed to be in and was outside in the hall when class dismissed, waiting to take me to my next destination.

During our travels together through the school's many hallways and staircases, he pointed out landmarks and fixtures, just as he had when we walked to the cafeteria my first night. I'd thought it was just because he was talkative by nature, until I noticed he was mentioning the same objects, same works of art on every trip. He was teaching me how to navigate on my own.

Sure enough, by my third week I had a basic map of the school drawn out in my head with all the locations I needed to know marked. Denmark stopped escorting me to my classes, but I still spent most of my free time in his company along with Norway and Iceland. They were my first friends at St, Hetalia Academy for Boys.

And soon there were others. Estonia was my age and was in most of my classes, a studious guy who taught me his favorite methods for taking notes and preparing for tests. Lithuania also became a good friend, though his affable demeanor made me think he could probably make friends with just about anyone.

I barely ever saw Sweden. Like Denmark, he was a year older than me so we didn't share any classes–to my relief and disappointment. Still, all summer long, my eyes sought him in every communal space in the school–the library, the courtyard, the planetarium even though it was too dark to see. If I hadn't been too shy to use the indoor hot spring I probably would have looked for him there, too.

Sometimes I thought I saw a flash of turquoise in the hallway, but when I turned to look again it was always gone. The only place I was ever sure to see him was in the cafeteria at lunch and dinner, but never breakfast. There I would steal quick glances at him the way one would watch at a beautiful girl bathing naked in a river. Let my eyes take it in for a fraction of a second and then look away, relive it through the afterimage and let the feeling of guilty exhilaration fill me.

I was sure it was perverse, an addiction even. I couldn't stop thinking about this boy who I was too terrified of to even talk to. Did anyone else think about him? They didn't talk about him. After my initial warning on day one, nobody ever spoke of Sweden or his curse. It was as if he didn't even exist to them. He was even less than an outcast. He was a ghost.

So I never asked about him, much as I yearned to know more. I played along with the rest of the school and acted like I didn't see him there, alone in his corner, even though I felt an aching tension in my chest, like a Russia-sized fist was crushing my small heart a little bit tighter every day I did. Maybe everybody felt this way when they first learned of his situation and over time they just became numbed to the pain.

Maybe I would too.

…

By the last week in July, when summer classes were nearing their conclusions and the boys were growing more and more restless for the upcoming two-week break, my heart still ached for Sweden and burned with guilt over my own cowardice. But thankfully, the pressure of studying for exams kept my brain too occupied to dwell on it. Or anything else, for that matter. Between my teachers' last-minute attempts to cram as much new information into their lectures as possible and Estonia's grueling study sessions in the library, I was too stressed to even look for Sweden in the hallways.

On the eve of the first wave of exams, Denmark–who was entirely too laid back considering that he had tests to take as well–offered his advice. He had already turned off the lamp on his side of our room and was stretched out his bed with his hands behind his head. I was curved over my desk with two open textbooks and my class notes spread all around me like newspaper on the floor of a rabbit cage.

"Fin, I know I say this a lot," he said, "but you seriously need to relax. Yeah, the exams at St. Hetalia _are_ as tough as you'd expect. But the summer ones aren't nearly as bad as the ones in the fall and spring. As long as you paid attention in your classes you'll do fine."

If it were as easy as being able to relax just because he said so I would have done it from the start. But for me this wasn't just a test of what I'd learned, it was a test to prove that both my father and China had been right, that I belonged here at this school.

"Look," said Denmark. "If you need help unwinding, you should give the hot spring a try."

"But I've already told you…" I started sheepishly.

"I know, I know," he said. "You aren't comfortable with the group nudity thing. Even though I keep telling you that nobody is going to make fun of your junk. Unless you've got something they've never seen before." He gave me a nervous look. "You don't have anything… _weird_ down there, do you?"

"N-no! Of course not!" I stammered. "I just… I'm not into being naked in front of people. Even back home, when I would go in a sauna I never took my towel off in front of my friends."

"Just go down there right now," Denmark said. "Everyone is either in bed or cramming, the place will be empty."

"Really?" I asked. The prospect of a hot bath without a bunch of guys seeing my private parts was appealing. My neck was stiff from being bent over books for the last week.

"Really," he assured me. "And in the unlikely event that there is someone else in there, you can always leave your towel on."

Then he shot a wink across the room at me and I knew I had to go. I had to face my fear of nudity, even if I didn't have an audience this time. If I could handle the hot spring alone then maybe I could try going the next time my friends did. And if I could conquer this one fear then there might be hope for me overcoming others.

I knew where the bath was even though I had never set foot inside. I'd been invited before, many times, but I always had some feeble excuse why I couldn't come. Denmark is the only person I'd actually told about my discomfort with nudity, but having seen how gossip traveled in the school I was sure that everyone knew by now. The invites had stopped coming.

It was one of the most popular features at St, Hetalia and I had a vague image of it in my head based on the many extravagant descriptions I'd overheard, but none of it had adequately prepared me for what was behind the enormous doors at the end of the west hall on the ground floor.

First there were stairs made of gray and white marble that led down, deep below what I thought was the lowest level of the school. Then there was a short length of hallway that opened into a round, brightly lit room, its walls completely covered in cubbyholes, from ceiling to floor.

I walked around the circumference slowly, examining the contents of each nook because they were different. Luckily for me, there was a label underneath each one that revealed its contents, things like: _Face Towels, Body Towels, Bath Salts, _and_ Herbal Shampoo_. I didn't even know that boys used anything more than shampoo, soap and a washcloth.

Remembering what Denmark told me my first day about St. Hetalia being all-inclusive, I helped myself to a large towel, a fresh bar of almond soap, and a tube of shampoo that smelled like lavender and had the words "for relaxation" on it. Then I proceeded to the next room.

This one was rectangular and not quite as bright. There were several long benches in the room and all along the walls were cabinets with little numbered tags hanging off their handles. It took me a moment to figure it out. This is where you undressed and stored your clothes.

I chose a cabinet at random, number forty-two, and with a nervous swallow I sat down on the nearest bench and began to peel off my clothes piece by piece. I wrapped the towel tightly around my waist before I took off my pants and shorts, just to be safe. Then I stowed my clothes in the cabinet. The tag with the 42 on it came off in my hands when I closed it and I realized that it was a locking mechanism. The tag would be necessary to retrieve my clothing and it clipped easily onto my towel, quite convenient actually.

After that I just took a quick look around to see if any of the other tags were missing. None were, which made me sigh in relief. I was the only one here.

Through the last set of doors I found a subterranean paradise.

It wasn't one giant bath; it was over a dozen baths, terraced into a landscape of water and steam and tropical plants with a stone path woven through for easier access to all facilities. The ceiling was natural rock into which lighting and ventilation systems had been artfully inlaid. There were even stalactites in some places. This must have started out as a natural cave deep in the cliff wall, but the St. Hetalia founders had looked at it and seen more, seen what it could be.

The place had lived up to its hype before I'd even put one toe into the water, and it could only get better.

I eased myself slowly into a deep bath near the back that was just a bit larger a hot tub and heavily shielded by bromeliads. It was, in a word, bliss. At that moment I understood how girls could be so fanatical about their baths and wondered how many boys would be converted if they could experience this.

I could smell the minerals dissolved in the water, could feel my muscles relaxing to a sleep-like state, could hear nothing but the gentle flow of steaming hot water from fountains and little falls between the baths. And then a splash.

A splash?

My heart crouched nervously in my chest. There was another sound, a swish, the sound of a body moving through water. I was no longer alone, but if I was careful I might be able to go unseen. My thoughts flew to the towel I had removed and set up on the rocks behind this bath. I never should have taken it off; I should have played it safe.

I looked around, not really able to see much through the rolling clouds of steam, and tried to formulate the best way to extricate myself unnoticed. I hadn't been sure which direction the splash had come from–and actually wasn't even sure it was caused by another boy–so I had to do a bit of guesswork. I thought it had come from closer to the doors, so if I moved to the very back of the cavern I could escape around the perimeter, hidden by steam.

The one flaw in this otherwise sensible plan was that it would require me to climb up just a small waterfall, without making a sound of course. A little voice in my head told me that this was ridiculous, that going to such lengths to avoid being seen naked was the antithesis of trying to conquer my fears. Another voice reminded me that I didn't want to spend the next three years known as the kid with blond hair _down there_.

Ever so carefully, I started to climb, and amazingly, I made it to the top as slickly as a cat burglar. Triumph blossomed in my chest, until I realized that I had climbed right into a dead end. The top of that waterfall wasn't another bath but a pump that supplied water to three baths below, including the one I'd been using.

Okay, I would just have to go back down and think of something else. It would be harder not to splash on the return trip, but I would try. I dangled my body, legs first over the edge, searching with my toes for a foothold. Just when I found one and was shifting my weight, I heard it.

"H'lo?"

The low, baritone voice came from nearby. I was caught. Worse than just caught, I was caught naked and dangling from a waterfall. Panic seized my arms and legs and I lost my grip.

I fell. The drop down seemed a lot farther than the climb up and the momentum of it plunged me under the water. My arms flailed, trying to find the surface, but all they felt was the rocky wall and floor–I was upside down somehow.

Then something grabbed hold of my shoulders, righting me and pulling my head up out of the water before I could do it myself.

"Thank you," I said between gasps of air. I was too stunned to care about nakedness at this point.

"Y'okay?" the low voice grunted.

I looked up to tell the boy that I was fine, thanks to him, but the blue-green eyes that met mine robbed me of my voice.

It was Sweden who had pulled me up, whose hands were still touching me. My heart pounded like a drum. His face was so close to mine–no glasses, cream-colored hair plastered to his forehead with steam, mouth set in a hard line, furrowed eyebrows casting a dark shadow over his cheeks. He had never seemed so terrifying before.

But his eyes glowed like there was fire lit behind them, jewels set in the face of a stone god. This close up I could see tiny flecks of gold and gray in them. They were more beautiful than these baths, than the lake at sunset, than the aurora over my hometown.

"Didn' mean t'make you fall," he said, his concerned words contrasting with his frightening face.

"I'm… o… okay," I croaked hoarsely.

"Good," he said.

I had actually never heard him speak before. His speech was gruff and monosyllabic, but his words were kind.

"Thank you for getting my head above water," I told him, having gained more control of my voice. "I was just…" His eyes locked with mine and made the breath shudder in my lungs, made me unable to push out words. I adjusted my gaze to just below his face and tried again. "That is, I was just horsing around. It was foolish of me. And, um… is that a scar?"

I hadn't meant to ask such a personal question but it came out involuntarily when I saw the slash of silvery pink that ran from just below his right collarbone almost to his left armpit. It was a smooth, straight line, like a blade would make. "I'm sorry!" I squeaked, but before I could retract the question, Sweden answered it.

"An accid'nt. When I was a k'd."

Just like my voice, my hand reacted on its own, reached out to Sweden's chest and touched the ridge of scar tissue that marred his perfect skin. He didn't try to stop me, even though what I was doing was unbelievably obtrusive. He just stood still while my fingertips traced the length of his scar.

"It doesn't still hurt, does it?" I asked softly.

"Not 'ny more, F'nland," he said.

"You know who I am?" I shouldn't have asked that. Of course he knew who I was. I was the guy who replaced his deceased roommate. If he was paying close attention he might also know me as the guy who watched him like a sneaky pervert in the cafeteria.

"Yer D'nmark's frien'," he said.

"Yes," I answered. "We're roommates." I wanted to be polite, to not make any more mistakes. I leafed through my mental roster for someone ultra-polite to imitate. "And you are Sw… Su-san, right?"

Immediately he pulled a faced that made me cringe in fright.

"Not Susan," I said desperately. "I was trying to be polite like Japan and it came out all wrong. I meant… I meant Sweden-san… Honest! I…" And just as my anxiety was peaking a felt a gentle hand land on top of my head.

"Su-san s'okay," he said.

I nodded my head very quickly. "Okay… Su-san." My whole system was overwhelmed by now. I wondered if my heart would wear out from beating so fast and so hard for so long. Or maybe it had only been a couple of minutes. I couldn't tell. "I feel light-headed," I mumbled. "I should get out of the water and go back to my room."

"Y' didn' hurt y'self in th'fall did you?"

"No, I… I'm fine. It's the steam, I'm sure of it." I moved to the edge of the bath to pull myself out and suddenly remembered that I was still naked under the water. "Could you… not look, Su-san?" I asked timidly.

He vocalized his consent with a gentle "Nn" and turned his back to me.

I scrambled out as quickly as I could, found my towel and wrapped it around me securely. "Okay, I'm decent," I said. "I'm gonna be on my way, now. But it was… it was nice meeting you, Su… Su-san. Thanks again for… for helping me."

"Guess I should go, too," he said. "Exams t'morrow."

I had totally forgotten about the exams. It must be getting late by now and I had to get some sleep, or at least try to. I had to hurry back. But my first step landed with a crunch and I paused.

Su-san, still in the bath up to his chest, looked up at me. "Wha' was that?"

My eyes fell to the ground, to the unmistakable shape of glasses frames. An earpiece had snapped off and one of the lenses had popped out and was broken in two. There was a smear of blood on them and around them, but only now did I feel the throb of pain in my cut foot.

"I think I just stepped on your glasses," I whimpered as I stooped to collect the pieces. "I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry, Su-san. I am so, so, so, so, sorry."

"Glasses c'n be fix'd," he said. "But I can't see w'thout'em so you'll have t'lead me out."

"Of course," I said, wracked with guilt. "I'll pay to have them fixed if I can. Anything to make it up to you."

"I'll th'nk 'bout it," he said. Then he began to pull himself out of the bath and I quickly looked away.

I only saw a flash of his hips and his stomach but it was enough to make me feel a flush in my face that had nothing to do with the steam. When he'd covered himself with a towel, he took my hand in his. Sweden's hand was warm and wrinkled from the bath, and so big that it swallowed mine in its grasp. It didn't feel scary.

"Lead th' way, F'nland," he said.

So I did.

The cool air that hit my lungs when we reached the room with all the cabinets was a wonderful kiss of life. The voice that greeted us, however, was a less pleasant shock.

"Good evening, gentlemen. You are aware that the bath is off limits after eleven–that is, ten minutes ago–right?" England was perched on one of the benches, legs crossed like a proper British gentleman and a golden pocket watch clutched in front of him.

"Actually I didn't know," I admitted, which probably sounded like a lie even though it wasn't.

"Well I am sure that Sweden _does_ know," England said tartly. "So I am afraid I'm going to have to hold him responsible for the both of you."

"No!" I cut in sharply. "It's not Su-sa… it's not Sweden's fault. He told me to get going, and I did… but I accidentally stepped on his glasses so I had to lead him out. He couldn't see. And the glasses cut my foot so I couldn't walk very fast. Look."

I presented the bloody shards of eyewear to the Vice President as evidence and he examined them. "Hmm… Your story does seem to check out. Just be glad that Russia had other business to attend to tonight, because this is ordinarily his job and he isn't nearly as lenient as I am. I trust you won't let it happen again?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Never," I said. "I'll always be mindful of the time from now on. And I will watch where I'm stepping."

"Alright then," said England. "You're both free to go. You've got to get some rest before those exams. Oh, but would you like me to have those glasses fixed up? It should only take a day or two."

"You could do that?" I asked gratefully.

"Th'nk you k'ndly," Sweden said, his first words in a while.

"You'll still be alright to take those tests?" England asked him.

Sweden nodded. "Don't need 'em t' read 'nd write."

"And what about getting to your classes?"

"I'll b' alright. Finlan' here said h'd help me get 'round."

His declaration felt like the moment when you hit the water in a belly flop, not the pain of the full-body slap, but the shock of it. He'd just volunteered me as his escort without any sort of warning. But hadn't I said I would do anything to make up for breaking his glasses? And if I denied what he said after jumping to his defense earlier it would definitely seem suspicious.

So when England looked at me with that one thick eyebrow raised and asked, "Is that so?" there was only one way I could answer.

"That's right. Until Sweden's glasses are fixed, I will be serving as his guide."

To be continued…


	5. Chapter 4

Free Talk: As usual, I am at a loss to properly express my gratitude for all the kind words of support and encouragement this story has gotten. Thank you to everyone who has read, who has left a review, who has added this story to her or his alert/favorite list. I hope that it will continue to entertain and live up to your kind words. Please tell me what you think of the new chapter.

**Outcast**  
By Angelsaurus

Chapter 4

I turned the knob of our dorm room door with the same sort of delicacy I'd use if I ever had to dismantle a bomb. I could hear Denmark's deep, slow breathing even from outside so I knew he was already asleep. He was a deep sleeper–on my third night here I tripped over a heavy wooden desk chair en route to the toilet, sending it and me to the floor with a crash and he didn't even stir–so being this cautious probably wasn't necessary. But considering that the price for waking him would be explaining why I was late or pathetically attempting to lie about it, I wasn't going to take any risks.

If anything might be a threat to his sound sleep it was the relentless, pounding gallop of my heart. It pulsed in my ears, my stomach, and seemed to shake the very walls around me; it had to be audible from outside as well.

But Denmark didn't even twitch at my arrival, or when I shimmied deftly out of my clothes and tugged my pajamas on. Once safely in my bed, I pulled the comforter completely over my head, with just a small gap to breathe through. I felt somehow more secure this way, as if having my head outside the covers might cause Denmark's dreams to tune into the wrong brainwave and accidentally pick up what was going through my mind.

There was only one thing.

I couldn't get Sweden out of my thoughts. My hand had felt cold since the moment he let go outside his room, and even burying it under my pillow did nothing to alleviate it. I wondered what his hand would feel like in the morning when I met him in the same spot. Was it just the bath that made him feel so warm? I needed to know.

There wasn't even a chance I would be able to get any sleep tonight. My brain kept playing out scenario's of how tomorrow might go, glossing over such trivialities as taking my exams. The exams were a constant, as was the school. The variables were human: me, Sweden, and perhaps most uncertain of all, Denmark.

Would Denmark understand that my assistance of Sweden wasn't a way of flaunting disregard for his warnings? I had taken his words very seriously, and the threat of that curse loomed in my head like the ragged edge of thunderhead encroaching on a blue sky. But Sweden–Su-san as I might be stuck calling him from now on–was not a bad person. He was frightening for sure, but not dangerous.

Actually, he was surprisingly gentle.

After England had left the changing room at the baths, I'd sat down stiffly on one of the benches to try and compose myself before putting my clothes back on. Sweden disappeared for a moment or two then returned and sat down on the opposite end of the bench, still clad in nothing more than a towel.

"Yer foot," he said with one palm open in front of him.

I obeyed silently, swiveling my body towards his and lifting my injured foot into his waiting hand. His fingers held my heel as if it were an egg and the cut a delicate crack.

He scrutinized the appendage closely–a necessity since he'd lost the use of his glasses–and made his assessment. "S'not too deep. Won' need st'tches." Then, using some cotton swabs and ointment he'd retrieved from the toiletries room, he cleaned up my wound and covered it with an adhesive bandage.

"Th-thank you," I muttered weakly, and he just nodded.

Now, curled in my bed and unable to sleep, I reached down and touched my foot, touched the bandage he'd placed there. Yes, he was definitely a good person.

And that made his curse even more heartbreaking. Nobody in this entire school would dare get close enough to him to see how kind he could be. I had only discovered it by accident. Of course, the terrifying expression he always wore couldn't help matters. Sweden frightened me as powerfully as he attracted me.

But maybe it was intentional. Maybe that fearsome glare was his way of keeping anyone from getting close enough to be hurt by his curse. The idea made me think of Denmark's battleaxe and what he'd said about it: _"Intimidation is the best means of defense, Fin."_ Intimidation could be Sweden's means of defending his heart from having another loved one ripped away. That could only be true, though, if he believed he was cursed just as strongly as everyone else did.

Why wouldn't he? Even the Student Council believed it. My ear itched at the memory of those words England had whispered into it just before he'd left the changing room.

"You know you don't have to do this, Finland. Other arrangements can be made for Sweden to get to his classrooms and take his exams. As a member of the Student Council I have a duty to look out for the safety and well being of students, so it worries me to see one willingly put his life in unnecessary danger. I take it your roommate did fill you in on all the, ahem, facts?"

I told him right away that I would be fine, even though my stomach was wringing with anxiety and a voice in the back of my head was hissing that I was reckless and an idiot for not taking his offer. England just looked at me with pursed lips, not critical or distrustful, but genuinely worried for me. I knew it wasn't his fault. He, and everyone here besides me, had known the previous Finland. Had lost him. They understood this curse far better than I did.

Nope, there was really no way I was going to get to sleep tonight, not when I couldn't stop thinking about Sweden. I wanted to know about him, know where he grew up and how he got that scar across his chest. I wanted to know why he continued to attend St. Hetalia when everyone treated him as an outcast. I wanted to know so many things that I could never ask him about because they were too personal. But even if I wasn't going to get any answers to my burning questions tomorrow I was excited just to have him hold my hand again.

I pulled it out from under the pillow and wrapped my other hand around it. It was too small to substitute for Sweden's hand, too cold, but I pretended it was anyways. The mere memory of that touch, of that reassuring squeeze, made me feel so happy.

"Yo! Up and at 'em, Fin. It's test day!" Denmark's jovial voice accompanied a very localized earthquake with my shoulder as its epicenter.

I was being shaken awake, which meant I had somehow achieved the impossible by actually falling asleep and it was already morning. It was the morning of exam day, the morning of my day escorting Sweden.

"I'm up!" I yelped as I sat bolt upright in bed. The act crashed my skull painfully into something above and a growl of profanity indicated it was Denmark's face. "S-sorry!" I squeaked.

"You pack a mean head-butt, Fin." He didn't sound mad, just stunned as he rubbed his nose gingerly. "Ouch, man. Remind me never to get on your bad side."

I knew he was probably just joking but I still stammered, "It was an accident! I wouldn't hurt someone on purpose!"

Denmark chuckled and tousled my already sleep-messy hair. "I know, I know. I said it before and I will say it again, you are one of the most harmless guys I've ever met. Now, do you want to use the bathroom before I jump in the shower?"

"Oh, yeah," I said. "I'll try to make it quick." With Sweden dominating my thoughts last night, I hadn't really thought about how I was going to give Denmark the slip without making him suspicious. If I weren't such a terrible liar this wouldn't be a problem.

The solution came to me while I was brushing my teeth. I waited until Denmark shut himself in the bathroom and I could hear the hiss of the shower. Then I wrote out a note on a piece of paper–since it was my shaky voice and sheepish face that always impugned me–that said I was going to spend breakfast doing some last-minute studying in the library. It was such an easy solution that I felt a little stupid for worrying at all.

Now it was time to go get Sweden.

As I'd discovered last night, his dorm room was startlingly close to ours, at the very end of the same hallway. I'd never seen him coming or going before so he must have timed his travels carefully, to protect his privacy or to spare his peers the distress of brushing elbows with the cursed one.

The hall was empty except for me at the moment; it was still too early for any reasonable teenage boy to be up and ready for the day. But I hoped that Sweden would be waiting outside his door. I didn't want to have to knock, to see the door swing inward and reveal the window the previous Finland had hung himself out of. I shuddered at the thought.

Just my luck, he wasn't waiting. I felt a wave of déjà vu wash through me as I raised a tight fist to the door. At least I knew who was behind this one–it wasn't like that agonizingly slow stretch of seconds before I met Denmark for the first time. I was still nervous, though, and it came through in the rapid speed of my knuckles hitting the door.

It opened just wide enough to reveal Sweden's stark face and a tall stripe of the center of his body. "M'rning F'nland," he said gruffly. Then he slid sideways through the small crevice, not opening it even a centimeter wider.

I felt a tiny, pin-sharp prick of regret in my chest. Why had I wished for the room where he lived to remain hidden when I was so desperate to learn anything I could about this boy?

When Sweden reached for my hand and folded it inside his it was enough to distract me from any other thoughts. My heartbeat grew stronger, but not like the wild drumming it had been last night. Already my body was getting more used to Sweden. I couldn't imagine the thrill would ever disappear completely, though.

"Where do you want me to take you first, Su-san?" I asked.

"Caf'teria," he said. "T' get breakf'st."

That's right. Even though he never stayed to eat there in the morning, Sweden still got his breakfast from the cafeteria every day. Now I was going to get to see where he took it.

We didn't encounter many of our classmates in the hallways, though the two or three that we did all stared, brows furrowed in confusion, as the most recent addition to the student body led the cursed and nearsighted Sweden around by the hand. I knew they must have been wondering what was going on and whether Denmark had warned me properly. For some reason that bugged me. These weren't even friends of mine; what business was it of theirs who I spent my time with?

The cafeteria, likewise, was just starting to welcome the earliest risers. The waiters in their spotlessly clean uniforms were lifting shiny, domed lids off the silver platters of eggs and sausages and pancakes. There was one boy already helping himself–I thought it was America until I saw he was actually wearing the blue school blazer instead of the non-regulation bomber jacket the President got away with–but he was paying more attention to pouring maple syrup from a glass pitcher than to Sweden and me.

"Okay Su-san," I said. "What'll you have?"

The America look-alike gazed over and raised an eyebrow when he saw that the two of us were holding hands then quickly went back to his own business.

"Meat," Sweden said. I reached for a plate to put it on, but he shook his head. "Put it 'n a napk'n so we c'n take it outside."

So his mysterious dining locale was outside. "Are sausages okay?" I asked. He nodded and I let a waiter fork several of them onto the bed of napkins in my outstretched palm. "Anything else, Su-san?"

"Some bread. An' don't f'rget t' get someth'ng fer yers'lf."

I grabbed four slices of bread since I wanted some, too, and a hardboiled egg for myself. I had to cup my hand to keep the food from spilling and Sweden must have seen I was having a hard time because he held out his free hand next to mine.

"Here, my hands're bigg'r." I gently transferred the napkin-wrapped bundle into his much more accommodating hand and he squinted his eyes down to turquoise slivers to examine what I'd got. "I thought y'liked sof'boil'd eggs best."

"Oh, uh… y-yes." I could feel heat pooling under the skin of my cheeks as I stuttered out a response. How could he even know what I like to have for breakfast when he didn't eat his in the same place? "I just didn't want to cause a mess because I don't have a cup for it."

"But y'get yolk on yer tie 'nyway," he said.

That must be how he knew–I never ate a softboiled egg before coming to St. Hetalia and while I loved them I still hadn't mastered the subtle art of eating one without yolk dripping off my toast point and onto my clothes. He would have to be watching me very closely to notice such scant evidence, though.

I felt the blush spread from my face down my neck like a fiery rash. Sweden had been watching me? When? How? For a fraction of a second I felt somehow violated, but that was quickly replaced by a sting of shame at my own hypocrisy. I had been covertly staring at him every chance I got during the past two months. And he probably noticed little things about _everyone_ from his vantage point as an outsider, always observing without participating.

My chest tightened. It always hurt when I thought about Sweden being so isolated and alone, but there was something else behind this tug of pain. The thought that he wasn't singling me out should have been a relief but it wasn't. I didn't want to ponder why.

"So, um, where are we going now?" I asked.

"S'xth floor, end a th' west hallway," he said.

I had actually never set foot on the sixth floor before. It was the highest full floor of the school and was occupied by student dorms on the north and south hallways. As far as I knew, the west hallway only housed storage and was off-limits to students. But I wouldn't question Sweden's directions. He knew what he was doing.

I led him down to the end of west hall on the first floor then we ascended the spiral staircase. Sweden didn't say a word until we reached the sixth floor where he asked me, "D' ya see a big door 'cross from th' stairwell?"

I did, but it was not exactly the most welcoming sight. "Is it a big wooden one with black iron hardware and a sign that says 'no students beyond this point' on it?" I asked just to make sure.

"Tha's th' one," he said. "We go through it."

I was already breaking the unwritten rule that said not to fraternize with the school outcast so there was no sense in hesitating to break a written one. The door was just as heavy as it looked and I had to push with my shoulder before it opened with a low groan and Sweden and I stepped out into bright morning sunlight.

"This is… a balcony?" I puzzled aloud. But the word wasn't quite right to describe where we were. It was really an outcrop of stone projecting from the nearby cliff wall and joined to the school. Ground smooth for walking on and outfitted with guardrails, it was another natural feature that the school's builders had brilliantly incorporated. It also served as the foot of a flight of stairs carved right into the side of the cliff. I didn't even have to ask to know where we were going.

"You really come up here every morning, Su-san?" My voice squeaked at the end of the question, betraying how scared I was as we scaled the cliff-side stairs–I had already made the mistake of looking down.

Sweden didn't seem the least bit perturbed, which truly baffled me since he was visually impaired right now and dependant on me to guide him safely. But he had made this journey many times before, probably knew it by heart. Still, I squeezed his hand a little tighter just to let him know that he could trust me.

Thankfully, it wasn't that far to the top of the cliff, and when we got there the view made it worth the frightening journey. In front, the rooftop and towers of St. Hetalia shone golden yellow in the morning sun and the lake stretched out like a long mirror, reflecting the cloud-dotted sky. Behind, wildflowers in shades of white and rose and orange filled the space between the edge of the cliff and the start of the forest.

"Y' like it?" Sweden asked me.

I had to force my gaping mouth to close in order to answer him. "I think it's the most beautiful place I've ever seen." I looked over at Sweden, thinking it must be impossible for him not to be smiling in this setting. He wasn't, but he also wasn't frowning the way he normally did. He had a sort of wistful, faraway look on his face, the least scary he had ever seemed to me.

We settled among the flowers to eat, close enough to the ledge that we could watch the clouds move across the surface of the lake but far enough back to feel safe. I started to peel the shell off my hardboiled egg and Sweden wrapped a slice of bread around a sausage and took a bite. Strangely, he set the remaining three sausages on the ground. I was about to ask him why when something stirred the flowers a few meters away.

"There's something here," I said, craning my neck curiously.

Sweden glanced in that direction but continued chewing stoically. Then suddenly a little white face popped out of the flowers right next to him. It was a puppy, some sort of fluffy mixed-breed with shiny black eyes and a little black nose, and it went straight for the sausages.

"He's so cute!" I cooed. I knew it wasn't my manliest trait, but I had always had a soft spot for dogs. "So this is why you take your breakfast up here every day. You've been taking care of this little puppy."

"Y'p," he said, lowering a large hand to the dog and letting her nuzzle against it.

And there it was, proof that even the most frightening guy could be rendered momentarily adorable by the charms of a small animal. Sweden was so gentle with the tiny dog, just like he had been with me. "What's her name, Su-san?"

"She doesn' have one. J'st a stray."

"Oh…" It didn't surprise me that he hadn't given the puppy a name. If he thought that his curse wasn't restricted to humans, it made sense that he didn't want to get too attached. But from watching him pet the little ball of fluff, pick her up into his lap and scratch her under the chin until her eyes closed contentedly, I could tell that he already was.

"Y' w'nt t' hold 'er?" he asked me.

I absolutely did and reached out my hand for her. She wriggled joyfully as I hugged her against my chest and that curled little spitz tail would not stop wagging as she licked beneath my jaw. I couldn't stop myself from grinning, from laughing, from rolling onto my back. I even surrendered my egg to her when her sniffing indicated she was interested in it.

"Yer cute, F'nland."

The words made me sit up quicker than I had in bed this morning. Sweden just called me cute, and he'd used the name Finland so I knew he wasn't talking about the dog. My face felt hot. My everywhere felt hot. This had to be my first full-body blush ever. I couldn't control it, couldn't hide it. My heart was pounding furiously, pumping blood to my skin. Why? Why would he say that? I had to think about something else!

"She needs a name," I blurted out. "A doggie should have a name. How about Flower, since she's up here with all these flowers? Or… or Egg! She seems to really like the one I gave her. Plus she's all white… You could even combine the two and name her Flower-Egg. What do you say Su-san?"

His face was contorted into a grimace that made me cringe. "Flower-egg?" he muttered.

I shrank in my spot. "Just one idea. You don't have to decide anything just yet. Yeah, we should take some time to think about it."

He raised an eyebrow for a moment and then his expression smoothed. "We should g't going."

"Right," I said, still feeling self-consciousness. I set down the puppy, which I now was thinking of as 'Flower-Egg' despite all reason, and crammed the last slice of bread into my mouth to keep myself from saying any more stupid things. Then Sweden and I headed back down to the school to take the first of our summer exams.

My World History exam wasn't nearly as tough as I'd anticipated, or maybe I had just let anxiety built it up in my mind into a challenge no actual test could ever match. Whatever the reason, I finished with time left over and used it to replay breakfast on the cliff with Sweden and Flower-egg. I could recall his voice perfectly, telling me I'm cute, and just remembering made me break out in a fresh blush that I hoped nobody would notice.

_You're the cute one, Su-san_.

That's what I should have said. But he probably wouldn't want to hear that. Most guys weren't too keen on being called cute by another boy. I was used to hearing it from girls, but Sweden was the first guy I wasn't annoyed to hear it from, and that was just because he was Sweden and I was so shocked by it. I still was shocked. No, it was definitely better that I hadn't thought to say that.

He really was cute when he was playing with little Flower-Egg, though.

Class dismissed and I went to get Sweden from the room where I had dropped him off. The halls were swarming with students now; there was no way that we could go unseen, but maybe in the bustle of it all we could go unnoticed.

I managed to see Sweden to his next class without causing any sort of commotion. We got strange looks from every direction, but they were brief since everyone was so preoccupied with test. My second exam, biology, was a bit trickier than the first and I wound up taking the entire allotted time with none leftover to daydream.

And now it was lunchtime, which meant no more hiding. I wasn't ashamed to be seen with Sweden. I didn't care if people thought I was crazy and had a death wish, didn't even care if they told me so. There was really only one person whose reaction I was worried about. Denmark seemed to harbor more loathing for Sweden than anyone else in the entire school and I feared how he might interpret my time spent with him. Worse than that, though, was the possibility that Denmark would think Sweden had tricked me somehow. Well, he _had_ sort of recruited me for the job, but if I didn't want to do it I would have taken England's offer to make other arrangements.

My stomach performed nauseating somersaults as I walked hand-in-hand with Sweden to the cafeteria. I had been running on nothing but bread this morning and knew that I should eat, but the thought of Denmark hating Sweden even more made me feel ill. How could he hate this guy, with such warm hands, with such a warm heart?

When we reached the entrance to the cafeteria he let go of my hand, leaving it suddenly very cold. "Y' don't have t' sit w'th me," he said in a quiet, almost resigned voice. "I c'n feel m' way to m' table. Y' should sit w'th D'nmark and yer frien's."

"Oh… If that's what you want," I said. "But at least let me help you get your food."

There was a strange numbness in my fingers and toes as I processed what Sweden just said. It felt like the opposite of a blush, as if my blood had become cool and thick and sluggish. The realization had just struck me that I was being completely self-centered in regard to Sweden. Here I was thinking I was so kind because I wasn't ashamed to be seen with him. It never occurred to me that maybe he didn't want to seen with me.

Right from the start I'd been making assumptions about what was going on in Sweden's head. I assumed that he was lonely when maybe he preferred being by himself because he found the rest of us annoying. I assumed that he didn't name the puppy because he didn't want to get attached when maybe he just didn't feel like naming her. I assumed that he believed he was cursed when maybe he just thought he'd been unlucky.

I never asked Sweden about any of these things, just reached my own conclusions. Why? Because I was scared? Because he was difficult to communicate with?

I hadn't even _tried_ to communicate with him.

But that was going to end. I wasn't going to think of Sweden as someone to be feared or pitied, to be gossiped about behind his back. And I was going to start by asking him how he really felt.

He was still right next to me in the lunch queue; there was no better time than the present.

"Su-san, is it true that you're cursed?"

Only when the entire cafeteria fell silent did I realize just how loud and fast I had said it. My nerves had made me lose control of my voice and I had downright shouted it at him. Now everyone was staring at me, including Sweden, who had an unreadable expression on his face.

"What the hell is going on here?" Denmark's bark tore through the awkward silence and a moment later he was at my side, one arm hooked protectively around my chest. He addressed Sweden with a vicious snarl. "What are you doing sidling up to my roommate, you creep?"

There was a sudden outburst of derisive laughter before Sweden could even respond. It was Prussia, the most notoriously mean-spirited guy at St. Hetalia. "Where the fuck have you been all morning, Den? Your little roomie here has been escorting ol' Grim Reaper all over the school."

Denmark's face whipped back to me, confused and fearful eyes searching for an explanation. "Is it true, Fin? Why? Why would you put yourself in danger like that?"

"I…" My voice got tangled inside my throat. It wasn't just Denmark who was watching me expectantly; everyone was, even the waiters. "I accidentally broke his glasses… last night in the bath. I agreed to lead him around until they were fixed."

"You're lying to protect him," Denmark growled. He looked like a wolf with its fangs bared. "The bastard tricked you, didn't he? Didn't he?"

"N-no!" I squawked desperately. "He didn't! He wouldn't! It… it's the truth, I swear!"

"He's telling the truth," a very British voice said and I sighed in relief. England had come forward to vouch for me. "I witnessed the agreement with my very own eyes."

Immediately, Denmark switched his target to the Vice President, grabbing the front of his blazer with both hands and shaking him violently. "How could you let him do that, you tea-swilling incompetent?"

"Hey! Hands off my VP!" Now America was in the fray pulling Denmark off of England.

Animosity swirled all around as little arguments I couldn't understand erupted throughout the crowd. I looked squarely at Sweden's stoic face, my chest throbbing with white-hot guilt as if someone were pressing a branding iron to my heart. I wished I could send my thoughts to him. _I'm sorry, Su-san. I didn't mean to cause so much trouble for you. I'm so sorry. Please, Su-san, don't hate me. Please don't hate me._

He didn't even look mad at me and it made me want to cry.

And then I snapped. "Stop!" I shouted. 'Everyone just stop fighting!" Shockingly, they did, and I continued in a calmer tone. "I chose to help Sweden because I was the one responsible for him needing help. _Nobody_ tricked me and England _did _advise against it. Anyone unhappy with what I have done needs to direct all his blame and anger at _me_ and only me. Sweden is a good person. He's never hurt anyone."

For just a fraction of a second, there was silence once again. Most people looked away or went back to getting their lunches in as quiet a way as possible, but Denmark kept staring at me, an eerie grin twitching on his face.

"Never hurt anyone?" he said quietly. Then his voice was suddenly loud and angry, which, combined with his smile, made him seem quite insane. "Never hurt anyone? Maybe not with his own hands, but he's responsible for four deaths! Both of his parents, his first love, and the previous Finland, all of them are dead! That's four innocent people who died because they cared about this cursed bastard! He's cursed and everyone knows it!"

"How?" I snapped. I wasn't used to the feeling of anger–it was making tears form in my eyes, words form in my throat. "How do you know he's cursed? Did he tell you so? Or did you find out his background and make it up as an excuse to hate him?"

_I'm sorry, Su-san. Don't hate me, Su-san._

Sweden's face remained inscrutable, even when Denmark leaned in close to him, grinning wickedly, and hissed at him loud enough for the whole room to hear. "Sounds like he wants to hear it from your own mouth. Go ahead, Sweden, tell Finland the truth."

I was frozen in my spot, paralyzed and unblinking. I had never meant for this to happen, never meant to cause so much trouble for Sweden. But now I had to hear him answer Denmark's question, the one I had asked that started this whole mess. Every boy at St. Hetalia was listening, but I paid no attention to them.

I looked straight into those piercing blue-green eyes as Su-san spoke.

"D'nmark 's'right. Those peopl' died b'cause a me ev'n though I nev'r touch'd 'em. B'cause I'm curs'd. S'rry, F'nland, but it's true."

To be continued…


	6. Chapter 5

Free Talk: I'll keep this brief since this is a very long chapter. Actually, it is the longest chapter of any fic I have ever written to date. I hope it is quality and quantity. Thank you a million billion to everyone who has supported this story so far. Please tell me what you think of the new chapter.

**Outcast**  
By Angelsaurus

Chapter 5

"Su-san…" My voice was little more than a trembling whisper as I stared at Sweden's somber face. There was no deception to be found there, but still a part of me hoped he would take back what he'd just said and tell me that it was all just a terrible rumor run amuck.

"See! He admits it!" Denmark trumpeted, throwing an arm around my shoulders and pulling me closer to his side. "Come on, Fin, let's go to our table and put this unpleasantness behind us." He paused and shot a vicious glower at England and America. "You might want to hurry it up with getting those glasses fixed 'cause nobody is going to be helping this guy from here on out."

I wasn't watching the Student Council members to gauge their reactions; my eyes were still fixed on Sweden, trying to read his expression. "Su-san, why do you say that?" I asked in a soft, creaking voice. "What would make you think such a thing? Please, Su-san, talk to me."

Sweden just looked away.

"You see what kind of appalling person he is?" Denmark growled. "He doesn't even regret putting your life in danger by letting you hang out with him, Fin. He's a monster."

He started directing me towards our usual table but my hand reached for Sweden's. "Su-san…" I began one more time, desperately clutching.

"Stop," he interrupted sternly, and in that moment, his blue-green eyes looked like the darkest, coldest part of an iceberg. "Y've done enough. Go back t' yer table w'th D'nmark an' th' oth'rs." Then he pried my fingers off of his hand, turned his back to me, and walked out of the cafeteria.

My heart had plummeted so deep down that I couldn't even find it. It was almost as if it had left along with Sweden. Numb and guilt ridden, I let Denmark shepherd my empty body into a seat at our usual table. The rest of the student body gradually resumed their normal mealtime routine, no doubt discussing what they'd just witnessed in hushed voices amongst themselves. To me it just seemed like a blur all around.

"Aw, cheer up, Fin," Denmark said, patting my back. "I should have done a better job warning you. You're such a kindhearted, compassionate guy–so much like the old Finland–I should have known you would follow in his footsteps and try to reach out to that guy. I'm just glad it wasn't too late."

He probably continued to talk, but I didn't hear anything after that; I had retreated into the dark world of my own thoughts. I couldn't possibly think of myself as kindhearted and compassionate. I was the absolute worst for what I had done to Sweden. I'd shoved him into an unwanted spotlight and made him even more ostracized than before. I'd forced him to admit something that might have otherwise remained an unsavory school legend.

It _was_ true, though. I believed in the curse just as much as everyone else now because I knew that every word Sweden said to me was truth. I trusted him implicitly, even though I had just proven that I wasn't trustworthy myself.

And now, though I had absolutely no right to, all I could do was worry about him. He'd left without anyone to guide him. Would he really be okay without his glasses? He hadn't eaten any lunch. How would he handle his afternoon tests without any food to fuel him?

My immediate urge was to make up a bundle like I had at breakfast and rush after him to deliver it, to try to apologize. But there was no way he'd want to see me and listen to my worthless request for forgiveness I didn't deserve.

I sank anguished in my seat, wishing I could slide so far down I would disappear completely. Denmark's hand touched my arm, though, and reminded me that I was still very much present.

"Fin?" he said gently. "Fin, I need you to tell me that you're going to be okay, that you aren't going to be the fifth victim of Sweden's curse. Please talk to me, Fin. Promise me you aren't going to do something rash."

There was fear stitched into every one of his words. I knew what 'something rash' meant to him and I had to assure him that I was not at risk. "I'm not going to hurt myself. I promise, Denmark."

The truth was, I didn't know what was going to happen to me. Though I believed it was utterly real, I didn't know the nature of this curse or how it was able to kill through fire and drowning and suicide. I didn't know if those who died because of it had any warning. But I did know that if caring deeply about that young man, whose real name I didn't even know, is what triggered the curse to kill then my fate was already sealed.

Denmark seemed to be satisfied by my answer and was smiling now. "You're going to be happy you're alive come Friday night, Fin. Trust me."

Of course, I was always grateful to be alive, but now I was mildly curious about what he was alluding to. "What happens on Friday night?"

"You mean I forgot to tell you?" he asked, sounding truly shocked as his lapse in memory. He went on to explain excitedly. "To celebrate the end of the summer semester, every year there's a big bonfire and party on the lakeshore the Friday after exams. There's going to be fireworks and all kinds of summer foods." A sly grin came onto his face. "But the best part is that the girls will be joining us from across the lake."

My ears perked up instinctively. "Girls?" This would be my first chance to interact with the girls from St. Hetalia's sister school and I had to admit that it was something I'd been looking forward to. I liked girls and had always found them very easy to talk to, but I couldn't possibly enjoy their company in the dismal state I was in now. My happiness meant nothing if Sweden was miserable.

I had to act like I was cheerful, though, for Denmark's sake. The last thing I needed was for him to be worrying that he was going to lose another friend to suicide. He must have been extremely close to the previous Finland–it was the only thing that could explain his hatred for Sweden, which seemed so sharp and personal. Maybe he and the old Finland were close the way Italy and Germany were close. Maybe Denmark didn't really mean it when he'd said he never fell in love with another boy.

…

Over the next two days we all took the rest of our exams, though I couldn't recall afterwards if they were difficult or easy. I carried them out robotically, the emotionally responsive part of my brain too consumed with Sweden to worry over mere tests.

I thought about Sweden all the time but I never saw him once. He didn't come to the cafeteria for any meals after that confrontation. I wondered if he was with Flower-Egg and longed to be with them, but I reminded myself over and over that I wouldn't be welcomed. I didn't even know if he had gotten his glasses back yet or if the Student Council had made other arrangements for him to get around.

Denmark, meanwhile, was being more overprotective than ever, practically hovering over me at every opportunity. He was making it his personal mission to keep me in high spirits at all times–sharing bawdy stories and jokes that I don't think I fully understood but laughed at nonetheless–as if any failure to do so would send me running straight into Sweden's arms. I didn't have the heart to tell him that his gregariousness only intensified my yearning for quiet, stoic Su-san.

I started using that nickname even in my thoughts. It was ridiculous that I should miss him so much when I still barely knew him.

Friday arrived with Denmark reassuring me that if I had failed any of my tests I would have been informed already. I was in the clear, he said, and had every reason to celebrate, and while I wasn't as thrilled about the lakeside bonfire as he was, I was relieved to know I hadn't flunked out of St. Hetalia. Now I could use the two-week break from classes figuring out how I could ever make up to Su-san for what I had done, even if he didn't forgive me.

As a reward for his valiant, though ultimately fruitless efforts to cheer me up, I didn't put up any resistance when Denmark invited me to go to the baths with him before the big event. I had overcome my fear of Sweden–or rather, had let my fondness for him overrule my fear–so fearing nudity seemed beyond silly at this point. It was time to get over it already. I was from Finland, for crying out loud, birthplace of the sauna. Nudity was my heritage.

With women arriving soon, it wasn't a bit surprising that we weren't the only ones taking advantage of the bath facilities today. In the round room that housed all the towels and soaps and lotions, three boys were making their selections very carefully. My ears caught bits of what they were saying to each other, things like, "I think she said she likes lilac," and, "I hope this stuff works on that stupid pimple." I was witnessing a ritual far older than St. Hetalia–these males of the species were preparing for their courtship rituals to compete for the few available females.

Somehow I got the feeling that I wasn't even in the running, but that didn't really bother me.

Denmark knew exactly what he was looking for here, making his way quickly around the room and plucking items from different cubbyholes. I just took some shampoo and the same soap I used the last time I was here. It was hard to believe that less than a week had passed since that day when I had my fateful encounter with Su-san. It felt like so much longer.

There were a couple more boys in the changing room, but their hair was already wet so I figured they must have just come out of the bath. A quick survey of the numbered cabinets revealed that at least a dozen were already in use and as I stripped off my clothes I tried to mentally prepare for that many guys to see me naked.

When I stepped into the steamy cavern alongside Denmark, however, my anxiety eased. The sounds of youthful laughter rang above the hissing rush of the little falls, but it was shared laughter, not the mocking sort. I should have known that the guys at this school wouldn't stoop to that sort of thing.

After we'd had a quick rinse off, Denmark led the way to the largest bath, which was strictly for relaxing, at the very center of the enormous space. It was as big as a swimming pool in length and width but no more than a meter deep. There must have been a submerged bench molded all along the walls of it to accommodate the eight guys I counted who were obviously sitting, arms hanging languidly over the rim, the churn of bubbles from the water jets obscuring their private parts.

Among the bathers I saw several friendly faces: Norway and Iceland, Lithuania, his chestnut hair pulled back in a ponytail, and his roommate Poland, who had a towel wrapped around his head. Italy was there, too, and so was that boy who looked like America. Everyone was naked and didn't seem to care. So I set aside my towel and slid into the wonderfully hot water as if it was the most natural thing in the world for me.

"Do you think she'll like the chai shampoo more than the bergamot?" Lithuania was asking his roommate nervously. "Or should I wash my hair again with something totally different?"

Poland rolled his green eyes. "The way your hair smells is, like, totally not going to make a difference. Unless they have, like, I dunno, a shampoo that smells Russia. But that would be just eww."

I had seen Poland around the school before, but this was my first time hearing his oddly affected speech. Strange as it sounded, it suited him, and he was easier to understand than Su-san.

My chest throbbed. Su-san. All my thoughts came back to him no matter how hard I strained to keep my mind on something else. But I couldn't let it show. I couldn't ruin the mood for everybody else.

"So, who is this girl you're talking about, Lithuania?" I asked, trying to muster up genuine curiosity.

He closed his eyes and sighed dreamily. "Belarus, the loveliest girl in the whole world." He said her name as if she were divinity.

"That's Russia's sister," Denmark explained. "The crazy one."

"She's not crazy," Lithuania insisted. "She's just a little…"

"Cuh-razy!" Poland completed the sentence, with a flamboyant hand gesture for emphasis. "For serious, Liet, you can do, like, sooo much better than that brother-lover."

"It's got nothing to do with love," Iceland said coolly. "It's all about money. See, their father is filthy rich but a hopeless womanizer. Ukraine was born from his first wife and Russia was born from his second. But Belarus is the child of one of his mistresses, and so stands to inherit none of their dad's money. Thus, her only chance to access the family wealth is to marry Russia. Or at least have a child with him."

"Is your source on this reliable?" Norway asked skeptically.

From my point of view, the reliability of his source wasn't what anyone should be most concerned about. "Do you really think we should be gossiping about Russia's family in here?" I asked timidly. "He could be in here and listening to us right now. And he's, well…" I didn't want to say it, but thankfully, Lithuania finished for me.

"Scary," he said. "I agree. But you don't have to worry about him overhearing us, Finland. The Student Council members have their own private bath. They don't bother coming in here."

"Oh," I said, feeling a bit relieved. "So then how come you're hanging out in here, Italy? Do you have to be an official member?"

"Excuse me?" Italy huffed. His face was puckered into a bitter frown I didn't think it was capable of until now–he looked like an entirely different person. "I wouldn't want to hang out with my brother's stupid Student Council buddies even if I could."

He actually _was_ an entirely different person. "You're not Italy?" I asked, so embarrassed I wanted to dunk my head under the water to escape.

"I'm _Southern_ Italy," he stated matter-of-factly. "The Italy who follows Germany around like a puppy is my foolish younger brother."

I scrunched up my brow in confusion. "There are two Italies? I thought the school rules mandated that there can only be one of every nation?" Another anomaly suddenly popped into my head. "And how can there be a student from Prussia? Prussia doesn't even exist anymore."

"Like hell I don't exist!" a devilish voice roared as a towel-clad Prussia appeared next to the bath, summoned by the mere utterance of his name. "And if any of you twerps sees Austria, tell him that I'm looking and smelling my finest and ready to feel up his girlfriend." He grinned salaciously, reddish-brown eyes glinting like a tiger's, and cracked his knuckles to illustrate that they were ready to carry out whatever devious plans he had for them.

"You know I'm standing right behind you," Austria said in a cultured voice as he stepped out of Prussia's shadow. "And if you really think you can charm a young woman by grunting and beating on your chest like a rutting gorilla, well, this isn't really going to be much of a competition at all."

"Shut up, piano boy," Prussia growled. "What're you even doing here? Do you need to pretty yourself up to get your right hand in the mood?"

Austria shook his head. "Precisely the sort of vulgarity that turns off a well-mannered lady like Hungary."

"Well-mannered? Who the hell are you talking about? Have you even met the broad?"

Before Austria could make a highbrow retort, however, Denmark turned his head and snapped at Prussia. "Could you move it along already?"

Prussia's eyes narrowed and he slicked back his silver-blond hair with one hand, making him look like he could be Germany's older brother. He leaned in towards Denmark antagonistically, staring into his unblinking eyes. It was a standoff between two alpha males and all that the rest of us could do was watch apprehensively.

After a second or two of flaring their nostrils and baring their fangs at each other, Prussia pulled back with a disgusted little snort. "It'd be a waste of my talents to pick a fight with any of you losers. I have more important things to do."

As he strutted away, hubris written all over his face even though he was the one who'd technically backed down, I wondered if he knew about Denmark's battleaxe.

"Anyways," Denmark sighed, getting right back to the previous conversation as if the rude interruption hadn't happened. "As for the answers to your questions, Fin, nobody knows except the Founders' Guild."

"Founders' Guild?" I asked. I couldn't immediately remember what my original questions had been, but this bit of information made me curious anyways.

"They're sort of like the board of directors for the school," he answered. "Their job is to preserve the original vision that the seven founders had by keeping the school running smoothly. They're the only ones who can make or change school rules and they're also the ones who select new students. For one reason or another they decided that there should be a Prussia and two Italies. They're a mysterious group."

The tone he used to tell me that the Founders' Guild was mysterious contained no evidence whatsoever that he actually thought it was. But I did. I thought this entire school was mysterious, dubious even, and the more I learned about it, the less I felt I understood.

And once again I found myself thinking about Su-san, wondering if there was anything the Founders' Guild could do to help his situation and wishing beyond hope that there was something _I_ could do.

"_Y've done enough. Go back t' yer table w'th D'nmark an' th' oth'rs."_

His words came back to me like a red-hot arrow being pushed slowly through the center of my chest. It amazed me that thinking about how badly I'd hurt Su-san still scorched as painfully, no, _more_ painfully, four days after the fact. Eventually, it would get too strong for me to keep pretending that nothing was wrong.

Even right now I could barely maintain my façade. The boys around me were laughing and talking about girls and tests, but I couldn't contribute much. It took all of my mental energy just to smile and act like I was listening. I felt like a horrible and neglectful friend, but I just couldn't stop thinking about Su-san.

I was still thinking about him long after I'd left the bath, when the sky started to change hue, from blue to mellow peach, and boys were migrating eagerly to the beach to enjoy a perfect summer evening and, of course, to welcome the girls.

I embarked from my room at Denmark's side, but having a mind too preoccupied to hustle I gradually fell behind as we walked. He was still in his overprotective phase so there was no way this would go unnoticed for long. But as soon as he was outside the school, something caught his eye and he was off sprinting and I was by myself. I hated to admit how nice it felt to be free from his constant surveillance.

It really was beautiful outside. A cool breeze moved through the mild air and stirred the surface of the lake, made it lap wetly at the smooth pebbles on the shore. There were only a few clouds in the sky and they were no more threatening than cotton balls. The moon was already out; full and pale like a ghostly white medallion.

On the beach, the bonfire was lit and spitting orange embers into the air. Several different booths had been set up around it in a loose circle with offerings of food and drinks. The most popular by far was the one being manned by the Student Council; there was already a line forming to get hamburgers and hotdogs fresh from America's grill and shaved ice, which Japan was serving up in ten different flavors. France even had a free kissing booth set up, but so far he didn't appear to have any customers.

If circumstances were different, I would be just as excited as everyone else. Celebrations and festivals were among my most favorite things in the world. I imagined what it might be like if I was here on the beach with Su-san instead of by myself, imagined what he would look like eating shaved ice. Did he even like shaved ice? I wondered where he was right now and if he could smell all the delicious things that were being grilled and roasted on open fires.

And just like that, the dam burst.

Away from Denmark's vigilance, I had no reason to pretend I was okay and all the emotions that had been incubating in the depths of me burst to the surface. My ribcage shuddered when I tried to pull air into my lungs, like an invisible boa constrictor had coiled around my torso. I was suffocating. I had to get away from this joyous scene that would never have a place for Su-san. I couldn't be a part of it.

I scanned my surroundings for any sign of my watchdog and saw that he had joined up with a bunch of other boys for an informal soccer game on the beach. So I ran back into the school. The smack of my shoes on the marble floor echoed in the deserted hallways. I wasn't even thinking about where I was headed; I just let my furiously pumping legs lead the way. It wasn't until I plunged into the stairwell at the end of the west hall that I realized they were taking me to the last place I'd felt truly happy.

I shoved through the restricted door on the sixth floor with bruising force and hurtled up the precarious stairs, gasping for air the entire way. When I reached the top of the cliff I collapsed to hands and knees in the grass, my whole body shaking with silent sobs.

"I'm sorry, Su-san!" I wailed at the ground beneath me. Tears were gliding down my nose and dripping off the tip. "I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!" When I paused to draw in a choking breath I could hear excited squeaks nearby and saw the sweet little furry face a moment later. "Flower-Egg!" I chimed, pulling myself upright.

She pranced right up to me, her whole body waggling along with her tail, and climbed into my lap.

"I'm sorry I don't have any food for you today," I said. But she didn't act disappointed, pawing at my chest and stretching up to lick my salty chin. I couldn't help wrapping my arms around her, hugging her tightly because I couldn't hug Su-san. "I miss him," I cried to her. "I miss him so much."

"F'nland?"

My heart stood still when my ears heard that voice and Flower-Egg bounded out of my arms, which had gone slack. A shadow was cast over me but I was afraid to look up, afraid he wouldn't really be there when I did.

"F'nland, what's wrong? Why're ya cry'ng?"

I had to look. And there he was, standing in front of me with that familiar, stone-carved expression on his face, glasses fully restored. A brief jolt of instinctual fear pulsed through me but was quickly overpowered by a flood of affection. "Su-san," I whimpered. There was no point in trying to tell him I hadn't been crying when I knew my face was a mess, sticky with tears and snot. I didn't want him to see me looking so disgusting but I couldn't take my eyes off him.

As gross as I thought I must be, though, he crouched down and reached out a hand to brush a fresh trickle from my cheek. "Y' okay?" His touch was still so gentle even though I knew he hated me now.

"I'm sorry," I croaked, leaning into his cupped hand. "I know I shouldn't be up here. I have no right to want to see you, to want to be with you. I barely even know you. But I miss you so badly, Su-san. And the thought of you hating me, no matter how much I deserve it, just tears my heart to shreds. I was horrible to you, Su-san. I never meant to be. You don't have to like me, just please, please, please don't hate me."

His hand pulled back and I immediately mourned the loss of it. I looked up at his face, expecting to find it twisted up in revulsion, but instead found an expression of knit-browed perplexity.

"I don' hate ya, F'nland," he said. "S' not poss'ble to hate ya."

My heart trembled with hope. "You… you don't? Even after I asked you about the curse in front of everyone?"

"Th't was noth'ng new for them. The've seen it 'nd heard it all b'fore."

"But… You looked so hurt when you left the cafeteria. And you haven't been coming for lunch and dinner anymore. If people haven't been treating you any differently it could only be because you're mad at me. And you have every right to! I…"

"Shh." He silenced me with one finger pressed to my lips, a soft touch that made me shiver. His eyes narrowed just the tiniest bit. "Aren't ya scared a me?"

"Of course not!" My voice came out more insistent than intended but I did feel very strongly on this. "I admit that I was at first. But after you bandaged my foot in the bath I knew you were a good person. You're very sweet and tender, Su-san."

His gaze shifted to one side, out of direct contact with mine. "Tha's not what I meant," he said in a low voice. "Aren't ya scared a th' curse?"

"Oh," I said quietly. This was one I had to think about to answer so I spoke slowly. "Well… I can't see your curse. It's hard to be afraid of something that doesn't have a face to go with it."

"What 'bout my face?" he said.

"Your face is _your_ face." I heard how idiotic the words sounded as they left my mouth and hurriedly rephrased it. "I mean, Su-san's face is the face of my friend, not the curse. I like your face. I've always liked it." Finally admitting that made my skin erupt into the hottest blush I had ever felt. My heart jumped like it was a rabbit trapped in my chest.

"Ya… y' like m' f'ce?"

Su-san's words were even more garbled than usual, and when I looked over at him–I had turned my head to the side in a hopeless attempt to hide the fact that my skin was roughly the same color as a strawberry–I was stunned to see that his face was angled away as well, and his cheeks were stained a marvelous shade of pink. Su-san was blushing and it was, strangely, the cutest thing I had ever seen.

"I like your face very much," I confirmed, watching as his lower lip twitched and his turquoise eyes darted to my face and quickly away, Pulse thrumming in my ears, stomach doing back flips, I somehow found the audacity in me to reach my hand out to his chin and gently guide his face back towards mine. "I especially like your eyes, Su-san," I said. "They're the loveliest eyes I've ever seen."

Those beautiful eyes widened; pale lips parted just barely, and his tongue flicked over them lightly. Suddenly there was a new sensation in my belly, one I'd never felt before. It was an urge, an impulse to take some sort of action; my body was aching for it but my brain didn't know what it was. I nudged myself closer to Su-san and the feeling grew more intense, but it felt good, like I was getting closer to what I was supposed to do here. My hand smoothed up from his chin to his cheek, thumb stroking soft circles on his skin, and I leaned in towards him.

Quicker than a blink, Su-san wrenched away from me, as if my touch had delivered an electric current. The ominous glare had returned to his face. What had I done wrong?

"Ya should go back down 'nd 'njoy th' party," he muttered.

"But I can't enjoy it if you aren't there," I said. My insides were squirming over what had just almost happened–though I still didn't know exactly what that was–and how Su-san had reacted to it.

"I can't be yer friend, F'nland," he said, and there was a vague trace of regret behind his words. "I won't p't ya in danger. Tha's why I tried t' make ya hate me. Why I stop'd coming t' lunch 'nd dinn'r."

My lips stretched wide around a baffled gape. _That's_ why he'd become extra reclusive? He was worried about _me_? Why? "But Su-san, I'm not in any more danger from your curse than anyone else in the cafeteria." I wasn't quite sure about that, but I couldn't think of a better argument on the spot. "You didn't have a problem with it before that morning together. What did I do wrong?"

His face made a subtle shift from stern to gloomy. "Ya made me feel… h'ppy," he said softly. "Wh'n we were up here t'gether, I felt h'ppier th'n I have 'n a long time. I d'nno if I c'n go t' th' caf'teria ev'ry day 'nd see ya w'thout being w'th ya, F'nland."

"Then be with me!" I declared. "If being together makes you happy, and it makes me happy, then we should be together as often as we can. Don't you think so, Su-san?"

His dire face returned at once. "Yer too import'nt t' me t' let ya get h'rt. Wh'ther it's by th' curse 'r by Denm'rk."

"Denmark?" I stammered. "He's just overprotective. He'd never harm me. I'm not afraid of him. And I'm not afraid of the curse." A little confidence drained from my voice when I said that. "Okay, maybe I'm a little afraid of the curse. But not nearly as afraid as I am of never seeing you again, Su-san!"

"I won't let ya die!" he growled through his teeth.

"Don't I get a say in who I spend my time with?" I snapped back. How had this turned into a fight so quickly? I didn't want to fight with Su-san, ever. My mouth opened to voice my position more reasonably. "Su-san…"

_BLAAAAAM!_

My skeleton nearly jumped out of my skin as an explosive boom blasted away the rest of my sentence. Flower-Egg, who had been remarkably calm up until now, burst out in wild yapping and dashed around us frantically. Su-san's face glowed green and blue and I turned around to see the last crackling sparkles of the night's first firework.

I'd been so caught up in Su-san that I didn't notice the world growing darker all around us. Maybe it was because the moon was so bright now, like an enormous gleaming pearl nestled in a blue velvet sky. Even though I knew the difference was negligible, I felt somehow closer to it here on this cliff with Su-san than I had on the beach.

Another rocket shot up through the sky with a hiss and burst into a fiery, red-orange chrysanthemum above us. It was a beautiful and we had the perfect seats to watch. Although my eyes were on the display in the sky, I could feel Su-san move closer to me and sit at my side, so close that our legs were touching, and the most wonderful joy blossomed inside my chest, bright and hot as the fireworks.

Wordlessly, I placed my hand on top of his and he didn't pull away. Flower-Egg continued her frenzied barking and jumping around until Su-san scooped her onto his lap and soothed her quiet. For a moment, there was only the three of us in the whole world, and I was perfectly okay with that.

But it was only for a moment–a half-hour perhaps–but a mere moment in the life of the universe. When the fireworks appeared to be over, Su-san turned and faced me with that serious expression. "Ya need t' get going now, F'nland," he said. "D'nmark will w'rry 'bout ya."

"Okay," I said softly. "But I'll be back here tomorrow morning to see, Fl… to see our puppy. I hope that you will be here too, Su-san."

I watched his moonlit face carefully, waiting for any sort of response. After a second or two of consideration, his features softened slightly. "Yeh, I'll b' here."

"Then I'll look forward to it all night," I said, beaming. "Good night, Su-san. Sweet dreams."

My body felt as light as a bird's as I floated down the cliff side stairs. Su-san didn't hate me. He actually _liked_ me. That made me as happy as I could remember ever being, even back in my hometown in Finland with my parents.

As I opened the door to get back into the school, I heard another explosion up in the sky. Apparently they'd found more fireworks. I had to fight the urge to dash right back up to the top of the cliff and enjoy them with Su-san and Flower-Egg. No, it was better for me to call it a night. If Denmark hadn't noticed my absence yet he would soon, and I didn't want to cause him _too_ much worry.

I pushed through the door and was relieved to see that the school's hallways were still empty. I would go back to our dorm room. Then, when Denmark returned, I could just tell him I ate too much barbecue and got a stomachache. I hadn't yet thought of how I would break the news about my friendship with Su-san to him, but I knew that right now it was definitely too soon.

He wasn't in the dorm when I arrived and closed the door behind me. Loosing a contented sigh, I collapsed backwards on my bed. I might have another sleepless night ahead of me, but this time it would be excitement-induced insomnia, which was a lot more bearable than the misery I'd experienced all this week.

I closed my eyes and just listened to the muted booms from outside the thick walls of the school. Through my lids I caught dim traces of the flashes of color out the window. It was oddly peaceful until a sudden eerie sensation seized me, like a shot of ice water coursing through my veins to my heart, and my eyes shot back open. There was a dark figure looming over me. I couldn't even work my lungs to gasp in horror as my hand fumbled for the switch on the lamp next to my bed.

"Denmark!" I sighed with the same level of relief as someone waking from a falling nightmare right when he was about to hit the ground. I sat up to talk to him. "You scared me half to death there."

He stared at me darkly, the lamplight throwing weird shadows over his normally jovial features. I'd never seen him look so sullen.

"L-look," I stuttered ineffectually. "I, uh, didn't mean to make you worry about me, Denny. I just… I, um, ate too much bar… barbeque. Yes! That's what it was! I ate too much and I got… a stomachache, so I came inside to lay down. I would've told you. Of course! But you were playing soccer, so…"

"Stop lying to me, Finland." His voice was flat, detached. "I know where you really were. I watched you climb those stairs. I saw you almost kiss him."

"What?" Panic clutched at my stomach like an icy claw. He'd seen me with Su-san? And when did I almost kiss him? "You… were spying on me?"

"Spying isn't the word I would use," he answered in that frighteningly inhuman tone. "I was monitoring you. Somehow I should have known that you would go seek him out. You are very weak-willed after all. You're drawn to Sweden aren't you?"

Cold sweat sheathed my body. Where was he going with this? "Y-yes," I admitted. "I don't care if Sweden is cursed. He's a good person and I like him. He's my friend."

Denmark blinked in surprise, though I couldn't tell if it was real or feigned. "Just a friend? You don't _desire_ him, _sexually_?"

That cold sweat on my skin may as well have been gasoline the way every surface of me ignited with raw heat. My heart was a furious drum, feeding the conflagration. "W-what? Sexually? I… I haven't even thought about him that way yet! I mean… I'm not sure that I like Su-san _like that_! I… I might! But… I don't know!"

"HA!" Denmark barked out a laugh and then smirked down at me in the most condescending way. "You've never had sex, have you, Fin?"

I looked away shyly. "No," I confessed. "I've never been in love, so…"

"You don't have to be _in love_," he laughed. Then he reached out a hand to my chest and shoved me back down to the bed.

"What are you doing?" I gasped.

"I'm going to make a little demonstration for you," he said as he pushed me further back on the bed with alarmingly strong arms. He climbed up and straddled my legs, sitting on them to pin me down.

"I believe you!" I squawked, terrified. "I believe that you don't have to be in love to have sex! I don't need a demonstration! Just… stop!"

He threw his head back and his laugh this time was a lion's roar. "When did I say that was the point of the demonstration?" His voice was loud and impassioned now.

I swallowed and fearfully asked, "What is the point?"

With a voracious grin on his lips, Denmark leaned down and breathed in my ear. "The point is to show you that you belong to me, and Sweden can never _ever_ take you away from me."

Before I could even make a sound of protest, he crushed his mouth against mine, stealing my first kiss. "Hey! St-stop!" I tried to scream around his invading tongue, but it was nearly choking me. I whipped my arms against his back, but it was like trying to punch stone. I was completely overpowered and more scared than I had ever been in my life.

Denmark finally pulled his mouth off of mine and I was about to scream but he covered my lips with his fingers. So similar to the gesture Su-san had made earlier, but with none of the gentleness, it felt horrible. His hands were cold and rough.

"Even if you do scream, nobody will hear you," he said. "Not over the sounds of the fireworks. And everyone is outside on the beach. So you'd best just lay back and take. You actually might enjoy it."

He sat up and tugged his shirt off over his head and I buried my face in my hands, sobbing. "Why?" I cried. "Why are you doing this Denmark? You aren't a bad person!"

His hands threaded under my t-shirt–those cold, rough hands on my stomach made my guts clench uncomfortably–and with one fluid motion he ripped the fabric open, clean down the middle. He leaned back in, pressing his bare chest against mine, and growled an answer to my question between more brutish kisses. "I will not let him take anyone else away from me! I won't let him have you!"

"Wait!" I stammered, still clinging to some desperate hope that I could talk him out of this. "You don't really want _me_, Denny! It's the previous Finland that you loved! You were in love with him and you blame Sweden for his death! But doing this to me won't bring him back!"

"Previous Finland?" He roared with laughter. "I barely even knew that guy! Trust me, you're what I want, Fin."

My attempt had failed. Now his mouth was all over mine and I could barely make any noise. I was sobbing, noiselessly and uncontrollably. Why was this happening to me? Why was Denmark doing this to me? I wished I could pass out. I didn't want to feel him touching my body, didn't want to hear the sounds he was making.

Oh god! His hands were unzipping my pants, tugging them off. The moment I felt his hand sliding up my thigh there was a thunderous crash, above the sound of the fireworks. Denmark's hand stilled, his face turned. Light was pouring in from the hallway around a tall silhouette.

"Su-san!" I yelled in elation.

He swept down on Denmark like an eagle and tore him off me, threw him to the floor, a feat that required incredible strength. "What th' hell're you doing!" he bellowed. Then he turned around and looked at me with the dire expression I no longer feared. "Ya okay, F'nland?"

"I… don't know," I answered shakily. "Now that you're here…"

I wanted to reach out to him, but Denmark, who had leapt spryly back to his feet, launched himself at Su-san. He swung his fist at Su-san's face and made contact with his mouth. As if by involuntary reflex, Su-san struck back, landing a direct hit to Denmark's nose, which emitted a spray of blood.

But the blows barely even slowed them down; in an instant they both lunged forward, locking hands where they met and pushing back against each other with all of their might. Locked in combat like this, Su-san and Denmark reminded me of two male reindeer clashing antlers.

"You can't take him from me, _Berwald_!" Denmark howled, flicking droplets of saliva and blood from his broken nose onto Su-san's glasses. "You won't kill him like you killed Maren!"

"I didn' kill 'er!" Su-san snarled back. "I'd nev'r h'rt 'er!"

The response seemed to rile Denmark even further. "You lying sack of shit, Berwald! You took her on a picnic and she never came back! But you did, you worthless _FUCK_! She was only twelve years old!"

My rattled brain was having trouble keeping up. Berwald? Was that Su-san? Maren? His childhood love? I was still piecing it all together when Su-san released a feral growl and flung Denmark across the room and onto his own bed with so much force the his skull crashed against the wall behind it.

"F'nland," Su-san panted, turning away from the collapsed–but still breathing–Denmark and towards me.

"Su-san," I sniffed. I couldn't even put what I felt into words. All I could do was reach out my hand to his to find that reassuring warmth.

"I'm gett'ng ya outta here," he mumbled, leaning in as if to pick me up in his arms. Before he even touched me, however, a short _crack_ rang through the room and a flash of silver streaked in the background of my vision.

"Su-san! Behind you!" I shouted.

He spun around just in time to catch the handle of Denmark's battleaxe and stop it mid-swing. The crack was the sound of Denmark ripping the bolts that restrained his weapon right out of the walls. This wasn't just a tussle anymore. It was mortal combat and I had to stop it. I had to save Su-san.

Powered by pure adrenaline, I vaulted off of my bed and grabbed Denmark's elbow with both of my small hands, pulling with all the strength in my body.

"Stay out of this, Fin!" he yowled.

But I couldn't give up. It was actually working! I was pulling him away from Su-san by millimeters. Then one swift jerk of his arms–so quick I didn't even see it–brought the butt end of the axe handle smashing into my temple and I fell like a rag doll.

"F'nland!"

I heard Su-san yell my name, saw him drop down to his knees over top of me. The look on his face, though a little blurred in my dizzy vision, was one I had never seen before. He was terrified. "I'm okay," I mumbled to reassure him even though the right side of my head was throbbing.

His face relaxed briefly and then twisted into a grimace of pain. Denmark had viciously kicked him in the ribcage and did so again, harder, forcing Su-san to roll off of me and onto his back. Then Denmark descended, pinning Su-san down the same way he had me, by straddling his hips.

"I should have killed you that day three years ago," he hissed, eyes as crazed as a rabid dog's. I should have sliced you clean in half for what you did to my little sister. I only left you with a scar. But I won't make the same mistake now."

With both hands, Denmark pushed the blade of his axe to Su-san's chest. I was trying to get up, to get to him, but I couldn't make my legs work. Excruciating pain now consumed my entire head and down my neck shoulder. The right side of my face felt warm and wet and when I touched it with trembling fingers they came back smeared with red. And I was losing sound; all I could hear was my own pulse in my ears.

_Su-san! Su-san! Su-san!_

My heart cried out his name over and over.

There was a tiny sparkle of gold. Then another. And another. Seven golden arrows arrived on the Student Council member's chests as they swarmed the room. Their mouths were moving, but I couldn't hear what they were saying as they yanked Denmark off of Su-san.

The last thing I saw was Russia snapping the axe handle in two like a matchstick, bending the steel axe head to a right angle over his knee. I must have been hallucinating. A moment later, everything was swallowed up in black.

To be continued…


	7. Chapter 6

Free Talk: Thank you so much for all the wonderfully kind feedback! It really means a lot to me that people are enjoying this story. I am very afraid that this chapter will seem boring after the last one, which had so much going on. It is sort of a calm after the storm, but there is important emotional development in there. For the record, I originally intended the events of this chapter and the next one to all be one chapter, but it started to run long and I decided there was a good place to break it up. Anyways, I hope it isn't boring, I hope people enjoy it. Thank you so much! And please, tell me what you think. Oh, and I gave Denmark a human first name out of necessity. I know I don't have the authority but it was needed.  
**  
Outcast**  
By Angelsaurus

Chapter 6

_The snow is so deep that I'm buried past my knees. And it's still falling, though it's hard to tell with the wind blowing flakes in every direction, whipping snow up from the drifts and into my face with a sadistic hiss. It stings like tiny shards of glass against my skin, somehow finding a way to get under my scarf, into my boots and socks. All around me all I can see is snow. Is white. But soon it will become night. Will become black. The moon and stars won't shine through clouds this thick._

_I shout out for my mother and father but the wind steals my voice and turns it into more of its own ghastly howls. I'm lost so far away from home and it's so cold. I want to cry but it's too cold for my eyes to produce tears. _

_When I try to take a step, my boot won't budge, lodged deep in the snow, so my foot slides out and I fall over forward and plunge into the white stuff. I'm so cold, all over. I'm so cold that it feels like knives are stabbing through my arms and legs and are pinning me to the ground. I'm so cold it feels like my body is on fire and it's burning hottest on the side of my head._

_But my hand feels warm, perfect. At least I'm not alone. Thank you for being here with me. I'm not scared because you're with me. Please, stay with me._

"Please don't leave me… Berwald…"

My hoarse voice was muffled as it came out of my dream and into reality, and when I opened my eyes I discovered that my head, including my right ear, was swaddled in bandages. The room I was waking in was one I'd never seen before: a long, high-ceilinged chamber with about twenty brass beds along one wall, spaced between tall, narrow windows, through which sunlight was beaming in. I was tucked under crisp white linens in a bed near the end of the room farthest from the only set of doors. This must have been the school's sickbay.

I'd been having the blizzard dream again; the cold surrounding me was all just a product of my brain, pieced together from almost forgotten memories. But the warmth in my hand was real.

"Su-san," I said softly when I'd followed the source of the heat up his arm to his pensive face. "You're here."

"Nev'r left," he mumbled, and the fact that he was in the same t-shirt and slacks he was wearing last night testified that it was truth–not that I would ever doubt him. "Yer in th' school infirm'ry, been out fer a good sev'n hours."

Seven hours? That meant I'd been unconscious for a full night's sleep. "Su-san, you've been sitting next to me all night? You got some sleep yourself, right?"

"I think I saw him nodding off once or twice, but otherwise he's kept up a pretty solid vigil."

The serene voice drew my gaze over to the other side of the bed I was in, to the Student Council Historian, China, who was approaching with an intricately painted teapot and cup on a simple bamboo tray. I began to prop myself up to talk to him more politely and he set down his tray on the nightstand next to the bed so that he could assist me.

"You have to take it easy for a while, Finland," he said as he grabbed a pillow from the next bed over and added it behind my head for support. "That axe handle gave you quite a nasty concussion and tore your scalp open. It took five stitches to close. You're lucky your skull wasn't cracked."

That's right, the end of Denmark's axe's handle had knocked into my head like a pool cue. It happened when I tried to break up the fight between him and Su-san after… The memories came rushing into focus, not as words, but as disjointed snips of video playing in my brain that incorporated all of my senses. I saw the deranged look in Denmark's eyes. I heard my own pulse pounding. I smelled the soap he had used in the bath that morning. I felt his calloused hands touch my belly. I tasted his mouth.

Yet it all seemed so dreamlike in the light of day, too unbelievable to trigger any immediate visceral response greater than a shudder. Maybe my psyche was repressing the true extent of the trauma I'd experienced. When I replayed the scene of Denmark pressing his axe to Su-san's chest, however, I felt a pail of scorching dry ice dump into my stomach.

"What happened to Denmark?" I asked anxiously. "Where is he?"

"Denmark is in the custody of the Student Council for the time being," China explained calmly. "His transgression has already been presented to the Founders' Guild and they are still deliberating on a suitable punishment."

"The Founders' Guild?" I breathed in awe. "What sort of punishment will they give him?'

China closed his eyes thoughtfully. "All of the evidence will have to be examined before they make their final decision, but Denmark will most likely be permanently expelled from St. Hetalia."

"I see," I said slowly.

The news didn't make me feel as happy as I know it should have after what the guy had tried to do to me and to Su-san.

The thought of what might have happened if the Student Council hadn't shown up turned my bloodstream into a glacial spring. Twenty-four hours ago I would have said, with absolute certainty, that Denmark wasn't capable of killing Su-san, no matter how deep his hatred ran. But now, I didn't know what to believe. I wanted to have faith that Denmark wouldn't really have gone through with murder or rape last night, but I had no way of knowing.

But just kicking him out of the school didn't seem right. He would leave hating Su-san more than ever, still blaming him for his sister's death, and now blaming him–and me–for his expulsion. What sort of peace could he ever find while carrying around that kind of hate and anger in his heart? It would eat him from the inside out like corrosive acid.

My stomach wriggled like there was a live fish inside it. Denmark had already been living with those dark feelings, even though he hid them behind a bright smile. Keeping everything bottled up and corked with a pretense of cheerfulness is probably what led to his actions last night.

"Are you all right, Finland?" China asked with gentle concern. "You look quite troubled."

I'd wandered off in my own thoughts, as I had a habit of doing. "It's nothing," I said quickly. Considering everything that had happened, I could get away with such an obvious lie and he would probably think I just wasn't ready to talk about the ordeal yet.

Indeed, he didn't push the issue further, just gave a small, cool nod and picked up the teapot off on the tray he'd set down. He poured out a pale, greenish gold liquid into the cup and handed it to me. "Drink this," he urged. "It will make you feel better."

The spicy scent of it wafted up to my nostrils before I ever lifted the cup to my lips. There was a hint of cinnamon in the smell, also clove, and a vague hint of licorice that reminded me of salmiakki. "Is this Chinese medicine?" I asked, somehow connecting it to the rumor Denmark told me about China and his Eastern magic.

China chuckled softly. "I'm afraid it's just spiced tea, my young friend. It will help clarify your senses, though."

I felt silly for making such an assumption, but at least he didn't act offended by it. I took a small sip of the tea and found it to be quite good despite the fact that I had always been more partial to coffee.

"Don't b'rn yer tongue," Su-san said, only now letting go of my hand so I could hold the teacup with both.

"I have to step out for a little while," China announced. "There is some Council business I need to attend to. You two will be okay on your own I take it? You won't let our patient exert himself, right Sweden?"

"Yeh," Su-san answered with an authoritative nod. "I'll watch ov'r 'im."

"Excellent," China said, a sparkle in his dark brown eyes. Then he glided out of the infirmary as placid as a monk.

Only after he'd left did it occur to me that China hadn't treated Su-san with any sort of suspicion. He didn't seem to care at all that Su-san had stayed by my side all night, holding my hand, and the fact that he'd left the two of us alone together indicated that he actually condoned this friendship. Was he, I wondered, the only one who didn't believe in the curse?

It was just Su-san and I in the infirmary now—even the school physician had stepped out, abandoning his desk down by the doors—and I felt as safe as I ever had. Su-san waited silently until I had emptied my cup of tea with a satisfied "Ahh," and set it back on the bamboo tray before he spoke.

"How's yer head feel'ng?" he asked me.

"Just a dull ache now," I answered, trying to make it sound like it really wasn't a big deal. I didn't want him to worry too much, especially since the purplish shadows beneath his eyes and the dried blood caked on his split lip proved that he'd been neglecting his own health. "You really ought to get some sleep," I said.

Just as I expected, he responded with a stiff shake of his head, staunchly refusing my suggestion.

I sighed. Su-san wasn't exactly the easiest guy to communicate with, but I couldn't hold it against him. I couldn't think anything remotely negative about him after he had come to my rescue last night. Then something suddenly occurred to me. "Su-san," I said urgently. "I just realized that I didn't even thank you for saving me. You were amazing, Su-san."

"Nn." He just gave a noncommittal grunt for a reply and his face looked neither proud nor humble. Actually, if any emotion could be gleaned from the minor variations in his stoic expression it was shame. The longer I stared at him the more obvious it became.

"Su-san, what's wrong?" I asked.

He folded his hands and bowed his forehead against them, muttering in a guilty tone. "I shouldn' a let y' get pull'd inta this, F'nland. I shouldn' a put y' ina position fer D'nmark ta use y' t' get t' me."

There he went, blaming himself. "I made the choice to get involved on my own," I reminded insistently. "You tried to push me away and I wouldn't budge. I'm stubborn like that. Besides, even if he hadn't seen me with you, he still might have tried the same thing later on. I mean, if he had a… you know, a crush on me."

Was that the right word, _a crush_?

Su-san shook his head again, more slowly this time. "I don't th'nk he really wants y' like that. Yer more like a l'ttle broth'r t' D'nmark fr'm what I seen. He prob'ly wouldn' a really gone through w'th takin' y' last night."

"He sure seemed like he was going to," I said. I knew that Su-san had seen the fear painted all over me when he burst through the door and that he knew immediately my fear was real. There had to be a reason, one that I couldn't see, to make him think that Denmark's intent wasn't genuine.

"He had t' make y' th'nk he really want'd t' take y' by force," he explained without me having to ask. "But I don't th'nk he really would 'r else he wouldn' a left a note fer me."

"Note?"

Su-san bobbed his head. "He left a note on th' outside a th't door t' th' school th't said he was going t' try someth'ng w'th ya. Didn' y' wond'r how I knew t' break inta yer room?"

That made me pause. I actually _hadn't_ thought about how Su-san knew I needed help. Earlier in the evening, when my heart was aching to see him, I had run up to the cliff and he'd just appeared. I guess I assumed that he showed up whenever I needed him, as if by some kind of extrasensory summoning. Reconsidering it now, I felt ridiculously self-absorbed. "So, he _wanted_ you to walk in on him and me?" I asked for clarification.

"Nn," he grunted while giving another affirmative little nod. "He must a known th't yer import'nt t' me since he knew th't seeing y' scared 'nd 'n trouble's what would hurt me most of all."

It was remarkable how what China's tea had done for my empty stomach, Su-san's words now did for my entire being; filled me, warmed me, comforted me. I was important to him, just as he was important to me. Seeing me in pain hurt him, just as seeing him in pain hurt me. I felt the rims of my eyelids start to prickle but I managed to sniff back the tears for now.

It was sort of a pointless accomplishment to have gotten my emotions under control, though, considering the subject I knew I was going to broach next, one I was sure would stir up feelings in both myself and in Su-san. But it was something I wanted desperately to know about and understand. I swallowed once, moistened my lips with the tip of my tongue, and asked, "What exactly happened between you and Denmark in the past?"

All of the muscles beneath the smooth skin of Su-san's face tightened, almost imperceptibly but I still noticed. "I guess y' had t' ask soon'r 'r later." He stopped and narrowed his eyes anxiously on me. "Y' really aren't going t' run 'way fr'm me, are ya? Ev'n if it's fer yer own good?"

I shook my head just like he had when I told him he should get some sleep. "I already told you that I'm stubborn. I'm bound to you by fate now, Su-san." He cringed visibly at those words–and he had every reason to, as the _fate_ of those _bound_ to him was not a pleasant one–but I wouldn't take them back. "I'm too deeply involved now to avoid whatever that entails," I continued. "So before that happens I want to know everything about you, Su-san."

A little shudder danced up my spine. I didn't realize it before I heard my own voice say it, but a part of me had already accepted the same terminal outcome that had befallen the others who cared about Su-san. I didn't want to die, of course, but not having Su-san in my life would be so much worse.

"Everything?" he asked, raising one eyebrow slightly.

"Everything that you're willing to share with me," I said. "And in return I will tell you anything you want to know about me. Since I couldn't help overhearing your real name, I think I should start by telling you mine. I'm Tino, Tino Väinämöinen, and I would very much like to get to know you, Berwald."

His cheeks were tinged that attractive rosy color I first got to see last night. I didn't realize that using his real name would embarrass him so much. "Okay, I'll tell y' 'bout my life, Tino," he said, and my face burned; apparently we were both susceptible to the other saying our real names. "I don't r'member much a when I w's really little, though. There're some… holes 'n my mem'ry."

I gave Su-san my full attention as he opened up his heart and told me the story of his life, keeping my eyes on his dear face most of the time but occasionally closing them so I could visualize the tale that his terse words were telling. His voice was low, his descriptions sparse and his words truncated, but the subtle changes in his tone and in his eyes filled in what his narrative lacked and a vivid portrait of Su-san's life materialized in my mind.

The early years of Berwald Oxenstierna's life paralleled my own, only set in Sweden rather than Finland. Like me, he was an only child, beloved by his mother and father. But that brief era of happiness was mostly a distorted haze to him now. A few details remained intact—fishing with his father in the summer, his artist mother making him a toy train out of wood and helping her paint it.

He didn't remember much about the fire that took their lives. It happened during the night, after his mother and father had tucked their darling son into his bed and kissed his forehead. Berwald fell asleep believing that those loving faces would be there when he woke up, but he never saw them again. The firefighters found him curled up and crying with fright in the garden in front of the smoldering skeleton of the Oxenstierna home. He had no memory of fleeing the house and there wasn't a single burn on him or his clothes.

He was only six years old.

After that, having no relatives who could take him, he was ushered about from one foster family to another. Nobody would keep him for more than a few months. They took him in out of pity, but eventually found his gloominess too much to bear. His icy, empty eyes unsettled them. He wasn't meaning to be aloof; he was doing his best not to burden any of them. They hadn't known his parents and he didn't want to pull them into his mourning. But nobody could pull him _out_ of it.

Then, when he was nine years old, one of his father's former business associates learned of Berwald's plight and, without ever having met the boy, agreed to give him a permanent home with his family in Denmark. The man had two children of his own, a son named Søren—the boy who would later enroll at St. Hetalia with Denmark as his moniker—who was Berwald's age, and a daughter, Maren, who was a year younger.

Both kids tried to bring their new young housemate out of his shell in their own way. Ebullient and athletic Søren pushed Berwald to join him outside, playing sports with the other Danish boys, but was quickly fatigued by Berwald's failure to cheer up. He'd wanted so badly for this boy to be the brother he never had but long yearned for.

Maren, on the other hand, was a sensitive and patient child. She would bring Berwald books from her large collection, leaving them outside his door when he wasn't in the mood for company. Whenever he finished one, she would promptly give him another one until he had read every book she owned. She never asked for anything from him, never expected anything. Her unfaltering, undemanding kindness is what melted the thick layer of ice around his heart.

Su-san didn't share many details about his relationship with Maren, but I could tell from the way his gaze seemed to lose focus–like he was trying to look back through the fog of years and see her face again–that it wasn't a lost memory. He was keeping it just for himself, a precious treasure.

The day that Maren died, Berwald had taken her on a picnic to a meadow by a stream less than a kilometer away from their home. Just like on the night that his parents died, he fell asleep, an afternoon nap this time with his head resting in the lap of a beautiful girl. His next memory was of being alone on the stream bank and discovering the girl he loved face down in the water, unmoving.

He pulled her out in a panic and tried to revive her, but she had already been gone too long. Her skin was so cold from the frigid water that her fingers and toes were blue. Berwald carried her home to her family and was met first by Søren.

I could see it so clearly in my imagination–though I probably had the setting and details completely wrong–how young Denmark's face must have looked when Su-san showed up cradling the limp body of his dearly loved little sister, when Su-san couldn't tell him what had happened because he had no memories of any of it. How could Denmark be expected to believe him? All the evidence indicated that Berwald was not only a murderer but a liar as well. What rage and dark suspicions must have been squirming through Denmark's brain?

It was enough to make him attack Berwald right then and there with his great-grandfather's battleaxe and shove the curved blade so deep into the thirteen-year old's flesh that he nearly died from blood loss.

If Denmark's father hadn't pulled him off, Su-san wouldn't be here by my bedside right now telling me this.

Berwald spent a week in a Danish hospital, but he never went back to his surrogate family. Instead he was sent back to Sweden to live in an orphanage where the other children called him cursed.

The two boys assumed they would never see each other ever again. But a year and a half later, against the most unbelievable odds, both Berwald and Søren were selected over every other boy in their respective countries to attend the prestigious St. Hetalia Academy. When Søren, now known as Denmark, saw Berwald, now Sweden, his wrath was explosive. He started a skirmish out in the forest clearing before the Student Council of that time had even arrived.

It came down to the Founders' Guild then to decide whether Denmark could continue to attend St. Hetalia, a foretaste of his current predicament. Back then, the final verdict had been to let him stay, with a stipulation of nonviolence. But for reasons I couldn't fathom, they agreed to his request to keep the battleaxe that had wounded his enemy bolted to his wall, a perpetual reminder to Sweden–Berwald–of the past he could never escape.

Denmark mellowed after that. He made friends with Norway and Iceland and many other students and his hatred of Sweden seemed to cool. But that's when the rumor of the curse began to spread throughout the school. Denmark always fervently denied that he was the one who started it. He wasn't. Su-san himself was the originator of the story and before long everybody knew it and everybody kept away. He remained friendless and alone but nobody ever came to him, asking about his history, because it was already well known. He preferred solitude to sharing his pain.

Until the previous Finland, Sweden never even had a roommate; just like all those foster parents, nobody wanted him, only now it was out of fear. But that cheerful Finnish boy, my countryman, was the first person since Søren and Maren who had wanted to be his friend. The old Finland didn't care that the friendship earned him odd looks and hushed whispers. He was the only other person before me that Su-san told his story to.

But the friendship was cut short when the curse struck again. As with the previous incidents, Su-san's memory surrounding the death was blank, like someone had poured jet-black ink over that part of his life. Like he wasn't even there for it.

Su-san stopped abruptly when he got to that point in the story. "F'nland, I'm s'rry. I didn' mean t' upset y' so bad."

Upset me? I touched my cheeks with both sets of fingertips and discovered that my entire face was glazed with tears. I was blubbering uncontrollably and hadn't even noticed because I was so wrapped up in his tale, his life. "Don't… don't worry about me," I snuffled, grabbing the edge of the bed sheet to mop up my sloppy face. "I'm so happy that I know now. I can understand why you wouldn't want to fall asleep. You don't want to lose anybody else that you love."

His gaze skewed slightly away, avoiding the eye-to-eye with me. "There's 'nly one pers'n th't could be."

Fresh tears oozed down my face, replacing those I'd blotted up. "Su-san, I'm not going to go anywhere. I'm not going to leave you. Ever."

I realized at that moment that the part of me that had accepted death as inevitable was completely trounced by the part of me that would never let it happen, would never leave Su-san for any reason, even death. The circumstances surrounding the others' demises didn't suggest that they were accidents. This was a supernatural monster I was up against, but I wasn't going to be defeated by it. I would defeat it.

But I was going to need expert help.

That's when China returned, and he wasn't alone; tucked under his arm was a wriggling ball of white fluff.

"Flower-Egg!" I chirped and she squirmed even more excitedly. Su-san grimaced at the name but China smiled.

"She certainly seems fond of you," he said, releasing her onto the foot of my bed.

Immediately, the little puppy bounded up onto my chest and began licking my face with her tickling tongue. "How did you find her?" I asked between giggles.

"I went up on the cliff," China answered. "Your friend Sweden here told me exactly where she would be. He told me you'd been taking care of her and said it would cheer you up if I brought her to you. I can see now that he was definitely correct."

"Thank you, Historian," I said. I smiled tenderly at Su-san. "And thank you, Su-san."

"So then, how are you feeling," China asked. "I can see that you've been crying. Is everything alright?"

"Oh, um, yes," I replied awkwardly. I wouldn't tell him that I was crying because of the tragic course of Su-san's life that had just been revealed to me. This called for another of my awful lies. "These are the happy kind of tears. I'm just so grateful that I'm okay and that Su-san is okay."

China stroked his delicate chin between his thumb and forefinger, clearly skeptical but not making a big show if it. "I see. But your head isn't hurting you too badly, is it?"

"Not badly at all," I said, which was just a bit of an exaggeration; there was still a mild twinge. "Honestly, I think the bandages might be a bit much. I feel more than well enough to go back to…" My words trailed of when I realized that I didn't know where I would be staying from now on. Of course, I knew where I _wanted_ to stay.

"That's right," China said thoughtfully. "I wouldn't expect you to want to go back to that room to sleep. Luckily, the perfect solution is sitting right next to you." I felt an enormous smile rounding my cheeks at those words. "What do you say, Sweden? Would you object to having young Finland as a roommate?"

Su-san's brows furrowed warily. Somehow I knew he wouldn't be comfortable with the idea. He had four damn good reasons not to believe me when I said I wasn't going to leave him ever.

"Letting me stay with you isn't going to put me in danger," I blurted out. "I feel safest when I'm with you. And we could have Flower-Egg be our watchdog. If the school allows it, that is. She'll protect the both of us."

"I don't think the Student Council or the Founders' Guild would have any problem with you keeping the puppy as long you clean up after her and don't let her wander," said China.

"I s'pose it's bett'r th'n y' being alone," Su-san sighed. "Y'd make a really good roommate, F'nland."

"Yes!" I declared. My hopes were up now; it looked like I was really going to be living with Su-san. That he had agreed to it could only mean he'd realized how stubborn I truly was and that I would be in his life even if I wasn't in his room. "I'll be an exceptional roommate!"

China and I were both smiling over the arrangement, but Su-san, of course, looked more pale and anxious and tired than ever. I really wished I could convince him to take care of himself. Actually, I wished he would go up to his—wait, _our_—room and get some sleep right now. I had something important I had to ask China about.

"Perhaps Sweden should go to his room now," China said. Was he a mind reader? "To get things ready for you, since you will be released from the infirmary this afternoon." Okay, his motives were different from what I had in mind but the desired result was the same.

"And to get some sleep," I added pleadingly. "Please, please, please get some sleep, Su-san. Nothing is going to happen to me while you do. I promise. I'll be fine."

His eyes shifted uneasily and China added, "I will make sure that he keeps his word to you, young Sweden." He had an odd, old-fashioned way of speaking and he called everyone 'young,' even people who were older than him or the same age, like Su-san was.

His words must have been reassuring, though, because Su-san did get up, albeit reluctantly, and gave my arm a gentle parting touch that left a trail of goose bumps in its wake. "I'll be back t' make sure yer okay. Y' still owe me yer life story, r'member."

"Of course," I said softly. "I'll tell you about it after you've gotten some rest." He began to walk away and I called out to him one last time. "Su-san, wait." He turned and looked at me and I suddenly felt a little bit shy. "Th-thank you again," I told him. "For… for everything, Su-san."

Then he did something I'd never seen him do before. He smiled. It was small and unsure, but it was the kindest smile I had ever seen. My eyes didn't leave him until he walked out of the door on the far end of the room and they lingered there even a little longer. It took several seconds before I recovered my bearings and remembered what I had wanted him gone for–because for those several seconds, all I wanted was for him to come back.

"Historian?" I said, turning my attention to China.

"No need for such formality," he said pleasantly. "Just China is fine. Now, is there something I might help you with?"

"I think there might be," I said. "China, is it true what they say about you? That you know how to use magic?"

China became very still upon hearing my question and he spoke slowly and softly. "Well, that would depend on one's definition of the word 'magic.' I do have quite a bit of knowledge of my own people's traditional version of it."

"Good," I said, more confidence building inside my chest. I knew what I had to do now. There was only one path in front of me. "I need you to tell me everything you know about curses. Specifically, everything you know about breaking them."

To be continued…


	8. Chapter 7

Free Talk: It's another long one. This chapter introduces certain story elements that I've been looking forward to writing from the very start, but I don't know what the readers will think of them. *crosses fingers* I hope people like it. Thank you so very much for all of the kind feedback, the favorites and story alerts. It makes me indescribably happy to hear that people are enjoying my story. Please tell me what you think of the new chapter.

**Outcast**  
By Angelsaurus

Even amongst the many handsome boys of St. Hetalia, China stood out. He was beautiful enough to be a woman, which I knew was a strange assessment to make about another male, but there really was no better way to classify him. With smooth skin, slight frame, and a long mane of glossy black hair, his good looks transcended gender, and age as well; he could just as easily be mistaken for twelve or twenty as he could be mistaken for a girl.

But he was, in fact, a sixteen-year old boy and the exact type one would expect to possess magical talents. And now I was watching his sedate face, almond shaped eyes half closed in thought, waiting for a response to my query about curses.

"I assume you are asking how to break a curse because of Sweden?" he said.

"Well, yes," I answered. I was slightly stunned by how forthright he was about it. "So I guess you know about that rumor. Everyone does, so of course you would." I paused a moment and asked curiously, "Do you, uh, do you believe that he's cursed?"

"As with all rumors, my position on this one is neutral," he said. "Sweden may be cursed. He may not be. I do not have sufficient evidence to prove or disprove it. I do know, however, that curses are indeed real."

"I have reason to believe that the mysterious deaths around him _are_ due to something… not normal." I was reluctant to say anything that would betray Su-san's trust in me, but if it would help me remove the curse it would all be worth it. Still, I was keeping my words intentionally vague until more specific details were asked for. "The circumstances of the deaths are very… well, strange."

China sighed and shook his head lightly. "I'm afraid that even if you could prove the presence of a curse I wouldn't be able to offer you much help. The dark arts are not my area of expertise."

The hope that had blossomed inside my chest withered in an instant. But really, what were the chances that somebody with experience in black magic would be attending my school? Heck, _any_ sort of supernatural powers had to be pretty rare since I'd never even believed in them before coming to St. Hetalia. If I weren't so convinced that Sweden's curse was real I still wouldn't.

"There's no need to look so crestfallen, young Finland," he said with an encouraging smile. "As it so happens, there is an individual at this school who knows quite a bit more on the subject of curses than I do. I could arrange for the three of us to have a meeting if you'd like."

"Really?" I asked, a resurgence of hope brightening my voice.

"It's no problem at all," he said. Then his tone became more cautious. "You will, of course, be expected to share with us everything you know, even things that were told to you in private. Will you be alright with that?"

"Yes," I told him. _I'm doing it for Su-san_, I told myself.

"Also, you must agree to keep everything that happens in this meeting _completely confidential_. Can you agree to that condition as well?"

"Absolutely," I said. I got an odd sense of foreboding from the way he said it. What exactly was I going to learn from this mystery consultant? And who at the school knew about black magic anyways?

"Come to the Student Council room in an hour," China said. "Until then you should continue to rest here. Oh, but I did bring you this." He handed me a stack of clothes, my clothes, which I hadn't even noticed tucked under his arm.

"Thank you," I said. Knowing he'd been in my old room didn't really bother me, as it was now a veritable crime scene. He turned his back to leave and let me rest but I still had one last thing to ask him about and called to him, like I had to Su-san when he was leaving. "China wait!"

He turned back towards me and smiled, calm as always. "Is there something else?"

"Denmark," I said nervously.

"What about him?"

"Has the Founders' Guild made a decision yet about him?"

"No, they are still deliberating I believe," China said. "Why do you ask?"

Relief swelled in my chest like a helium balloon. I knew I was running the risk of sounding completely daffy with what I was about to say, but I had to do it now, while I still had the chance. "I… I don't think he should be expelled," I spouted, closing my eyes so I couldn't be distracted by China's face. "If there's any way that you can talk to them and suggest a different kind of punishment, anything… I know I sound crazy, and I know my opinion doesn't carry much weight. But… kicking him out of school won't fix anything. It won't fix what's wrong between him and Su-sa… er, Sweden. So, please, if you could just ask them to consider something else…"

"Well," China said slowly. I opened my eyes a crack and saw that he was stroking his chin, what I suspected was a habit of his while thinking. "There is only one person who communicates directly between St. Hetalia and the Founders' Guild." I sighed glumly but China smiled. "Fortunately," he continued, "that one person is whoever holds the office of Historian on the Student Council."

"You?" I said, instantly perked. "Do you think you could, maybe, just put in a word for him on my behalf."

"I cannot promise you anything will come of it, but I will make sure your opinion is heard," he said. "Out of curiosity, what do you think would be a fitting punishment for young Denmark?"

I hadn't thought that far ahead. I suppose because I hadn't really believed my plea would be considered. I had to think on my toes now. "Maybe… maybe something that would make him better understand how Sweden feels. Like, if Denmark had to sit alone in the cafeteria for a month and if nobody was allowed to talk to him. Then he'd get a taste of what it's like to be an outcast."

"That is an interesting take on the situation," China said, a coolly amused look on his face. "I'll pass that one along to the Founders' Guild before we have our meeting. And you should try to take it easy until then, Finland. There is a call button behind your bed if you need anything. Now then, if you have no other questions for me I really should be on my way."

"That's all I had to tell you," I said. "I guess I'll see you in an hour. Thank you, China."

"Rest well," he said, and he left with the same fluid grace he possessed in every movement he carried out.

And I was left in my bed imagining the Founders' Guild—in my mind, a shadowy, cloaked congress, much like the Student Council as they'd first appeared to me in the woods—seated around a long table and laughing their heads off at my suggestion. I wondered if China thought my appeal was ridiculous, but only for a moment. China was the most even-tempered person I'd met at this school and seemed the most likely to consider all points of view before making a decision. I wished he were the one determining Denmark's fate.

There was nothing more I could do about that for now, though. My first priority was to free Su-san from the mysterious curse, to defeat the invisible enemy. After that I would try to help Denmark, an indirect victim, whether he was still attending the school or if we had to find him out in the world.

I was thinking in terms of _we_, me and Su-san together from here on out, curse or no curse. I didn't even know if his interest in me would last, but I knew mine would. I wanted Su-san to be a part of my life forever. And yet I continued to think of him as Su-san rather than Berwald. I liked his real name very much; it felt so good on my tongue the few times I'd said it. But I reminded myself of the social code here at school, that real names were used by lovers or shouted as insults. When we both were finished with school I would call him Berwald. For now, Su-san was still Su-san.

Apparently, I'd gone too long without showing Flower-Egg some affection and she took it upon herself to let me know, whining and pawing at my chest.

"I haven't forgotten about you," I said, giving her fluffy head a good long scratching behind the ears. "You're going to be living with me and Su-san from now on. That makes me sort of like your papa." Realizing the implications of what I'd just said, I chuckled and added, "And I guess that makes Su-san your mama. After all, he's the one who was taking care of you since before I came along."

She made a soft little whimper and licked my knuckles. "Yeah," I sighed. "I like him a lot, too."

I knew the hour-long wait would progress with brutal sluggishness if I just sat here in this bed, although that was what I had been advised to do. At least having Flower-Egg in my custody gave me an excuse to go outside, stretch my legs and get some fresh air. It wouldn't take anywhere close to an hour, but it would at least chisel off a small chunk of the wait time.

I dressed myself in the clothes that China brought for me—tan slacks, blue t-shirt, and sandals—and left the infirmary with puppy in tow. This being an area in the school I'd never been to before, it took a moment in the hallway to properly orient myself and determine the direction of the exit. The corridors were as empty as expected early Saturday morning the day after a big party; the boys were fast asleep in their beds, worn out from playing outside, with no idea yet of the showdown that had taken place between Denmark and Sweden. I was just grateful that I didn't have to explain to anyone why my head was wrapped in bandages.

Outside, the sun was still low in the eastern sky, an indistinct blob of yellow glow behind the sheet of clouds that had crept in overnight. The breeze that fluttered my bangs had a faint scent of cool moisture in it, a harbinger of rain in the near future, and, more distantly, of the segue from summer into fall. From the stone terrace in front of the school, I could see the pile of blackened driftwood that had been the bonfire, the postholes in the ground where food stands had been, and Prussia, soundly sleeping even though he was buried up to his armpits in sand that had been sculpted to look like a mermaid's body. It must have been one hell of a party.

I set Flower-Egg down in a patch of grass and let her do her business while I pondered eagerly the upcoming meeting with the school's resident black magician. What if breaking the curse turned out to be as easy as waving a wand and chanting a spell, or mixing up a batch of newt eye and bat hair potion? That seemed pretty unlikely. What if the only way to cure Su-san was something extreme, like sacrificing a virgin? I suppose I could volunteer myself for that one, though it would mean never getting to see him again.

My typical over-thinking was starting prematurely. If I didn't find something else to occupy my mind, I would have a thousand new hopes and dreads clogging my brain before I even set foot inside the Student Council Room.

So I opted to think about my days ahead as Su-san's roommate. I didn't even factor in the curse, just imagined us as two ordinary boys. Seeing that austere face first thing every morning might take some getting used to, but knowing that I would get to made me ridiculously happy. There were so many things I wanted to talk to him about, books and art and music and food.

This actually passed the time reasonably well as I walked along the shore with Flower-Egg, dawdling instead of going back to the infirmary right away. Eventually the guilt over disregarding China's advice made me head back inside with a sigh, but when I stepped into the front atrium and looked at the master clock displayed there, I was stunned to see that there were only fifteen minutes left until I was expected in the Student Council Room. Thinking about Su-san had passed the time _really_ well.

Briskly, I made my way to the west hall on the second floor, another new frontier for me. The blood beneath my skin felt like it was effervescing, fizzing with excitement, when that big mahogany door came into view. It had a majestic aura—despite its simple design—and a brass plague was affixed to it, elegantly inscribed with the words _St. Hetalia Student Council_.

I was just a few minutes early so I went ahead and knocked on the door. It opened inward and China, with his peaceful smile, was there to greet me. "Welcome, Finland. Please, come inside." He opened the door wider and gestured me in then closed it behind us. "I'm afraid our expert has yet to arrive."

"Well I am a bit early," I said as I followed him down a short length of hall and through the flaps of a heavy red velvet curtain at the end.

"It's not a problem," China replied. "Since this is your first visit here, you can use the extra time to look around. Most newcomers can't resist."

_For obvious reasons!_ I thought to myself as I pivoted on my feet and let my eyes take in a panorama of the place. Labeling this a mere room seemed belittling for all its grandeur. It was an enormous lounge—a bit deeper than it was wide—with walls at least five meters high and, above that, not a plain flat ceiling, but a latticework of wooden beams and rafters supporting an arched roof. It reminded me of the inside of a cathedral nave.

One wall, on the left upon entering, was almost completely covered with bookshelves densely packed with leather bound tomes. The opposite wall displayed a full arsenal of ancient-looking weapons, mounted in the same manner that Denmark's axe had been. Below them was a glass display case housing more shiny objects.

The wall across from the entrance, however, was what demanded the most immediate attention from me. This was because of the magnificent fireplace situated in the center of it, fashioned in the shape of a giant dragon's gaping maw. It was as if the stone beast were pushing its gruesome head right through the wall and breathing fire in our midst. There were seven high-backed leather armchairs spaced out around it for the seven members of the Student Council, and a mismatched, smaller chair next to one, which I assumed was Italy's perch at Germany's side.

Above the fireplace was a colossal painting in a chunky gilded frame. From where I stood it looked like it depicted some sort of mythological subject, though I would have to get closer to tell exactly what subject that was.

Strangely, there were no windows. The only light was supplied by chandeliers hanging from the rafters and by individual candles on tall, spindly stands.

I decided to check out the wall of weaponry first and then make my way to the seating in the back. China traveled silently at my side, like he knew that I would have questions. And I definitely did.

"Where did all these weapons come from?" I said as my eyes danced from sword to hammer to spear to mace. Some of them were unlike anything I'd seen before and defied naming. All were too high up for any student to reach unaided, much to my relief.

"Those came from all over the world," he said. "They've been collected over hundreds of years, starting with those once owned by the Seven Founders. Of course, the Founders' personal possessions are considered quite precious and are locked in that glass case."

My gaze moved down and sank into the clear box. The items inside didn't look like the oldest of the collection, but that was probably because they were so well kept and cared for. Besides just weapons, which there were several of, the glass case contained other trinkets: a worn calfskin journal, a wooden flute, a cloisonné brooch, and more.

"Makes you wonder what kinds of people they were," I said. "The Founders I mean."

"Indeed," China agreed.

From there we moved on to the back half of the room, to where the chairs and painting and giant dragon mouth were. On the floor in front of the fireplace was a great big grizzly bear pelt with its head still attached, teeth bared in an eternal roar. I shuddered when I imagined how big the animal must have been in life and turned my attention to the fireplace; at least I knew it had never been alive. It was exquisitely carved from a single piece of marble.

I set down Flower-Egg, whose tiny weight was starting to feel heavy in my arms, and she curled up sleepily near the dragon's lower jaw. Then I turned my eyes up to the mammoth painting. It portrayed what looked like a gathering of characters from several different myths and legends. There were three beautiful women who I guessed to be Athena, Isis, and a red-haired Guinevere. The four strong men were harder to identify: a Roman conqueror, a Germanic horseman, a Viking, and a Chinese scholar. They were all standing around a stone altar in front of the sea.

"That painting is off the Seven Founders, you know," China said.

"What?" I asked, flabbergasted. I found the metal nameplate at the bottom of the frame, _The Founding of St. Hetalya._ It must have been an archaic spelling. "But they look like gods and heroes! I mean did they really dress like that?"

He chuckled softly. "Only when they posed for that painting I imagine. You see they are depicted here in the costumes of the ancient civilizations they most admired and represented. There's the great Roman Empire, Ancient Greece, Ancient Germania, Ancient Celtic Isles, Ancient Egypt, Ancient Scandinavia, and my own ancestor, Ancient China."

"So that rumor is true," I said, and on a second assessment I could see a resemblance in the meticulous strokes of oil paint that formed Ancient China's serene face. "You really are a descendent of one of the founders."

"The gossip mill does get some things right," he said.

_Just like with Su-san's situation_, I thought.

I continued to look at the details of the painting, particularly at Ancient Scandinavia's face, which reminded me of Denmark for some reason.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," a familiar voice chimed, and I turned around to see Vice President England stepping through the red curtain. "So sorry to be late."

England was the school's resident black magic expert? It took me several seconds to sink in. I'd been priming my brain for someone much more mysterious, like Turkey or Egypt.

"I can assure you that my tardiness was not intentional," he went on peevishly. "It simply took longer than expected to convince that brute to relinquish this." As he got closer, I saw the bent slab of steel he was brandishing in his hand and recognized it immediately.

"Is that Denmark's axe?" I croaked.

"Well it was," England said dryly. "I don't suppose it could serve its intended purpose now that Russia has had his way with it."

It felt like my throat was full of gravel when I tried to swallow. "So that means what I saw before I passed out wasn't a hallucination? Russia… he really bent that just with his hands?"

"That he did," England said without a trace of shock or horror. What was wrong with him that he thought that was normal?

China was just as unaffected as he reached out and took the mangled blade and turned it over in front of his eyes. "What would he even want to keep such a thing for?"

_That_ was what he was curious about?

A sense of unease was churning nauseously in the sea of my stomach and my fear of Russia increased tenfold. I already knew that there was more going on at St. Hetalia Academy than just studying, but I wasn't sure if I was ready to be thrown right into the thick of it. It was all for Su-san, I had to keep reminding myself. I could handle anything if it was for his sake.

"I know you are alarmed, Finland, but it will make sense to you soon," China said, giving me a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

England, however, wore an apprehensive expression. "Are you really sure that he should be privy to the Student Council's secrets, China? These are things we've never shared with other members of the student body."

China countered England's reluctant frown with a cool smile. "Young Finland has already sworn himself to secrecy and I trust him completely. You have my word that he will keep our secrets."

It took a moment or two for England's puckered face to relax. "Alright," he sighed. "If you trust him then I will as well. Now, let's get on with this. So Finland, you want to know about curses?"

"Yes," I said nervously. "Anything you'll tell me."

"I do happen to know a thing or two about curses," he said proudly, puffing his chest out a bit. "First things first, though. Let's draw the curtain and all have a seat."

"Curtain?" I asked, curious, as there were no windows.

He was already answering my question with his actions, walking over to a narrow gap between the bookcases that had skipped my notice until now and reaching into it to retrieve a golden rope. He pulled on the rope in a continuous overhand method and a wall of red velvet sprouted from the gap and spread across the room like a stage curtain, closing off the rear half.

"Wow," I breathed in awe. The curtaining off of this section of the room had separated it from the chandeliers and the flames in the marble dragon's throat transformed the space into an eerie den of flickering light and shadow.

China and England sat down in two of the big leather chairs. Not wanting to accidentally put my butt where it wasn't authorized to be—specifically, Russia's designated seat—I chose to sit on the bearskin rug with my legs folded. I looked up at England expectantly. He looked at me the same way.

"Go on then," he said. "Tell me what you know about Sweden's curse."

"Oh, right," I said with a small shake of my head to clear and focus it. "Sweden told me about the people close to him that died and how he didn't have any memories of their actual deaths. He was present for every one, but his memories just go from being happy with the person to the person being dead. Whatever happened in between is just… not there."

England's brow furrowed. "An interesting development. Of course, such memory loss could be attributed to post-traumatic repression. The events might be there and Sweden's brain could merely be blocking access to them because they are too disturbing to handle."

"But he's got plenty of other disturbing memories that he can access just fine," I insisted. "Like pulling the dead body of the girl he loved out of a stream and carrying it back to her family. Why wouldn't his brain block that out?"

"I never said it was sure thing," England said. "Though the human brain is so complex that there really is no way of knowing why certain bad memories would be repressed and others retained."

All this talk of memory and repression threw me off a bit. We were here to discuss the supernatural, not psychology. "I thought you were a firm believer in the curse, England," I said. "That time at the baths you warned me about hanging out with him."

"I consider all theories viable until proven otherwise," he said with a haughty sniff. "It's better to err on the side of caution if this really is a curse, and from what you've just told me, that is sounding a lot more likely. But we can't completely discount other possibilities."

Now we were starting to get somewhere. "Assuming it is a curse, what is the next step?" I asked.

"Well, the first task is to establish the conditions of the curse," England said. "The pertinent questions are: Who created the curse? When and how was the curse laid on Sweden? And what triggers the curse to act?"

I only knew half the answers, and not with certainty. "It must have started when he was six or younger," I said. "Since that's when the first deaths occurred. But it probably wasn't too much earlier than that or his parents would have died sooner. I'm pretty sure the trigger is an emotional bond between Sweden and the people who wind up dead. I just don't know how strong of a bond it has to be."

It had to be stronger than the bond I had with him now or else I wouldn't be alive.

"What kind of person would put a curse on an innocent little Swedish boy?" China puzzled out loud.

"Obviously a very sick and twisted individual," England answered, voice thick with disgust. "But that might actually make it easier to determine who done it. There are actually very few people in the world with an aptitude for black magic and even fewer who would use it on children."

My eyes lingered on his face, illuminated by firelight, as I soaked up his words. At that moment, despite all my previous impressions of him, England really did seem like a sorcerer and I wanted to see his gift. "Will you show me black magic?" I asked. "I want to see it with my own eyes."

He pouted sourly. "You don't believe me?"

"No, I do," I said. "I honestly do!" I was pretty sure I did. "I've just never actually seen magic before. I already know more things than I'm supposed to, so it couldn't hurt to show me."

He exchanged a look with China, who nodded, and turned back to me with a sigh. "Alright. I suppose I knew deep down it would come to this."

England stood up and cleared his throat. Then he pressed his palms together, closed his eyes, and began to chant in a language I didn't recognize. Suddenly, a ring of purple light appeared on the floor beneath his feet and I leapt back, almost into the fireplace, with shock. But it didn't break England's concentration. He continued his incantations, the circle expanded all around him, and as I simultaneously stared at it and scooted fearfully away, I noticed there was an elaborate pentagram drawn within the circle.

His hair and clothes fluttered as if blown by a wind expelled upward from the luminous design and my gaze instinctively shot to the ceiling to search for a projector, a fan, or some other source of the phenomenon. But of course there was nothing there. This wasn't an optical illusion; it was England's magic.

I was crouched next to China's chair now, watching with equal measures of fascination and fright, and still just a small bit of disbelief. "What is he doing?" I whispered to China.

"He is speaking in the tongue of the spirit world," he whispered back. "He must be calling on them for help."

"What is he asking?"

"I do not know. It is a language I do not speak."

The chanting stopped, but the purple circumscribed pentagram remained. A tense anticipation filled the whole room for several seconds, like we were all holding our breaths, then a long hiss of that same incomprehensible language poured from the magical design as if being spoken by the wind. The sound tapered off. The wind died and the circle receded beneath England's feet.

"Well then, are you convinced now?" he said as he tidied his rumbled clothes and hair and sat back down in his seat nonchalantly.

I could feel my jaw flapping but whatever mechanism allowed me to produce actual words was temporarily out of commission. That was the most incredible thing I had ever seen. There literally were no words.

"What did you ask them?" said China casually.

"Just inquiring about any dodgy magical folk who may have been hanging around the Scandinavian Peninsula about ten or eleven years ago."

"And?" China goaded.

"No sorcerers I'm afraid," England sighed. "But there were some whispers in their world about something evil that was unleashed about that time and place. Wouldn't tell me what it was, though."

"That's got to be what cursed Su-san!" I blurted out. "You have to find out what it was and how to stop it!"

Both he and China stared at me, quite possibly wondering who the heck 'Su-san' was. England then closed his eyes and rubbed his furry brows pensively with his fingertips. "If only it could be so easy. Sadly, there is a limit on my abilities. The Golden Arrow can only do so much."

"Wait, what?" I asked. "Golden arrow? You mean the pins that the members of the Student Council wear? What do they have to do with anything?"

"Oh," England said, blinking in surprise at me. "I thought China had already filled you in before my arrival." I shook a vigorous 'no' with my head and he continued. "The Golden Arrow pins were designed and crafted by the Seven Founders specifically for the Student Council to wear, to bring out their most outstanding characteristics that qualify them for their jobs."

I turned to China for confirmation. "Is this true?"

He nodded. "Indeed it is. Mind you, though, that the Golden Arrow does not grant any special abilities to its wearer, but rather enhances the abilities he already possesses, in England's case, his natural aptitude for magic. Without the Arrow, he wouldn't be able to produce the magic circle you saw."

"But how does that help you be a good Student Council Vice President?" I asked.

England rolled his eyes. "Everybody knows that it is the _Vice_ President who keeps things running smoothly, the shadow leader of the Student Council if you will. Having the aid of the supernatural certainly comes in handy. How else did you think I knew there were students in the bath after hours last week?"

"I see," I said, letting the information roll around in my head before settling. "So what about the others? What qualities do their Arrows amplify?"

China seemed eager to this question. "Japan's self-discipline and efficiency are peerless even without the Arrow," he said. "But with it he becomes the most outstanding Secretary you can imagine. For Germany, it is his incredibly organized and high-capacity memory that is enhanced to make him the ideal person to collect and relay data about the school and its students. France is gifted superior aesthetic sensitivity and so is able to choose only the finest quality things to be purchased for school events and activities. And, as you have seen, Russia's greatest asset is his daunting physical strength."

"So that's how he was able to bend Denmark's axe," I marveled. It was because of the Golden Arrow. "What about the president?"

"America's best quality, which the Arrow enhances, is his courage and charisma," China said.

"Courage?" England snorted. "Comes off more as bull-headedness if you ask me. And charisma? Pfft! He's a swaggering, loudmouthed, foolhardy git." With that he crossed his arms over his chest and scowled disdainfully.

"You just can't admit that the guy is a natural born leader, can you?" China said.

"What's with this 'natural born' nonsense?" England muttered under his breath. "It's not natural if it's due to the bloody Arrow."

"But you know that the Arrow only brings out what's already there," China reminded.

England just grumbled, his voice too low for me to make out the words. I had to steer the conversation away from the President. "So that just leaves you, China. What is your special skill?" I asked.

"Mine?" He gave me an inquisitive look. "I thought you had figured it out on your own by now, Finland. What do you think would be the most useful quality for one whose job is to know the long history of the school by heart and to use that information as a guide for the present and future?"

"Wisdom?" I guessed.

Orange fire flickered on the surface of his dark eyes and he smiled enigmatically. "That's right," he said. "I consider myself quite fortunate as wisdom is the greatest of all gifts."

There was a protracted moment of silence after that. England was massaging his temples as if he had a bad headache. I wasn't sure what I should say. Was the meeting over? Was this a short break?

Finally, China spoke again. "It's starting to get a bit late. I think we should call it a day. We did make some headway, though, I'd like to think."

"Oh definitely," I agreed, bobbing my head. "This was very eye-opening. But… I'm still not really sure what I can do to help Sweden."

"You can investigate his past," England said. "China and I will try our best to follow the lead that the spirits have provided. In the meantime, you should try your best to find out what happened to Sweden when he was six. And if either party has any breakthroughs we will schedule another meeting promptly."

"Alright," I said. My brain was still trying to digest everything my eyes had seen and my ears had heard. It probably was a good idea to end this session before I was overwhelmed with any more revelations that might uproot all my preconceived notions about reality. I had to stay focused on Su-san.

"If you'd like, I can loan you some reading material that may give further insight," China said, lifting himself out of his chair.

I stood up too, sensing an imminent migration to the exit. "I would like that very much," I said.

"Okay then," he said. "Follow me and I'll get you those books. England, are you coming?"

England was still rubbing his head with closed eyes. "I think I'm going to take an afternoon nap here in my chair," he muttered. "Just thinking about that imbecile has given me a dreadful headache. If it's alright with you, could you leave the curtain drawn?"

"No problem," China said sympathetically. "We'll leave you with your peace and quiet in just a few minutes. I do hope you feel better."

He let out a soft sigh then peered up through one eye, not at China, but at me. "You will be true to your word and keep everything that happens in this room a secret, right?"

"On my honor."

"Splendid," he uttered. "Take it easy and allow your head to heal."

I reached a hand to the side of my head, reminded that it was injured. "Th-thank you," I said. "Um… have a good evening." I got the feeling that he was not the most pleasant person when he was tired and had a headache and wasn't keen on sticking around to have that feeling confirmed.

China led me around the edge of the curtain to the front half of the Student Council Room, which seemed so mundane after what had happened in the back. Even the scads of weapons were just ordinary relics, nothing magical about them. I watched idly as China found the supplemental books without searching and plucked them from the bookshelf one by one; a few required him to use the sliding ladder, but none required so much as glance at the cover for him to know it was the right one.

"This one has some interesting theories on memory that might help you," he chirped. "And there's a bit on curses in chapter twelve of this one that's worth reading. It's a shame you can't read Mandarin because I've got some great books in my personal collection."

My arms were weighed down with six thick volumes when I walked out into the west hall with China. "Um, it might take me a while to get through these," I said, adjusting the grip of my sweaty fingers to keep them from cramping up.

"Keep them as long as you need to," he said kindly. "Just don't lose them." We reached the end of the hall where it joined the north-south corridor and he stopped, placed a hand on my shoulder, and spoke earnestly. "I know it might seem like this meeting didn't accomplish much, but remember these are the first steps on your journey, not the last."

"I understand," I said. "What I don't understand, though, is why nobody actually looked into this curse rumor after the previous Finland…" Upwelling emotion strangled the end of my sentence and I had to gulp air into my lungs to keep from crying. How could they just ignore Su-san when they knew about curses and black magic all along?

"In the course of human history, sometimes even the wisest among us find it easier to look away with hardened hearts," he said in a regretful tone. The look on his face was halfway between sadness and detachment, only for a moment, and then the tranquil smile returned. "But you, young Finland, have come to force our eyes back in the right direction. The Founders' Guild chose you well."

"Me?" I asked, stunned by the comment. "You really think so?"

"Your heart is very strong, Tino Väinämöinen," he said. "It would be interesting to see what the Golden Arrow might make of you. Well now I really must be going. Take care, young Finland."

And just like that he floated away down the north hall and left me standing in a daze. His use of my full real name didn't make sense. He didn't say it in anger or affection; it was almost as if he'd done it just to further confound me. But the time I spent pondering his enigmatic words was time I could be spending with Su-san, time that might be running out for me. I suddenly wanted to be back in our room so badly my chest ached like there was a lump of molten lead inside it.

But when I took the first few steps in that direction, something didn't feel right. Something felt missing.

_Flower-Egg!_

She had made her presence so imperceptible during the meeting, even during England's magic demonstration, that I hadn't noticed her absence when I left. I'd abandoned her, left her curled up by the fireplace in the Student Council Room.

I hurried back up the west hall, parental guilt sloshing inside my stomach as I moved, and paused when I reached the mahogany door. My concern over entering without knocking had a very brief war with my concern over waking up England and lost. I opened the door as quietly as possible, set down my load of books in the short reception hallway, and crept on tiptoes to fetch my puppy.

Thankfully, I found her in the front half of the room, awake and padding around curiously. When she saw me, her ears pricked up and her tail waggled excitedly. I pressed a finger to my lips in a gesture for "Shh" that I knew a dog wouldn't understand and used my other hand to try and beckon her. She cocked her head to the side and started to waddle pokily towards me as I nudged closer to her on hands and knees. Then, when I was almost close enough to grab her, she changed direction and made a dash for the red curtain that divided the room.

I scrambled as quickly and quietly as my quadruped stance would allow and dove for Flower-Egg just as she was wriggling under the curtain. Success! Her fluffy body was caught in my grasp! Unfortunately, the catch had plunged me beneath the curtain up to my waist and I drew in a sharp gasp of fear. Busted! I knew I must have woken up England with that stupid daring maneuver and would soon be facing his cranky British wrath.

But the scene in front of my eyes couldn't be more different from what I expected.

England was awake, _wide_-awake, but he was far too engaged to notice me. He was out of his chair and on the bearskin rug, and underneath him in a prone position was the Student Council President, America. Though both were fully clothed, save for their shoes and the President's glasses, the configuration of their bodies was explicit enough to make me blush fiercely. England's hips were settled between America's splayed legs, his hands threaded under America's shirt. Their mouths were melded together.

My heart galloped. I shouldn't be seeing such a private and sensual act, yet I couldn't look away. For some reason, what England and America were doing together was profoundly exhilarating. And they had no idea that I was watching.

"You know I only let you have your way with me out of pity, Arthur," America panted when the kiss separated.

"That's rubbish and you know it, Alfred," England said slyly. "It's been over a year now and you still tell me such pathetic lies, even when your teats are as hard as diamonds."

"Would you rather I told you that I like you?"

England frowned severely. "What do I care if you like me or not, you damn yank?"

"I do like you, Arthur," America said with a wide grin.

Immediately, England's face stained beet red, though his glower remained firmly in place. "I'm not saying it back," he stammered.

American laughed. "Suit yourself." Then he hooked his hands around England's head and pulled him back down for another passionate kiss.

I took this opportunity to pull myself out of the curtains and up to my feet and make a beeline for the exit. Heart still pounding, face burning hot, I speed-walked back to me and Su-san's room with my books and my dog.

_Well, I guess that settles the 'hate or date' dispute._

To be continued…


	9. Chapter 8

Free Talk: This story is the first fanfic I have ever written to get on over 100 alert lists. I am absolutely floored. Thank you so much to everyone who is following this story. It means so much to me that so many people are enjoying it. I hope that this new chapter lives up to everyone's generous reviews. Please tell me what you think.

**Outcast**  
By Angelsaurus

Chapter 8

Like the lingering ghost of a stared at lamp, the image of England and America tangled together on a bearskin rug was burned into the back of my eyes long after I'd looked away. It was exactly what I deserved for my shameless act of voyeurism, but I couldn't help myself. It wasn't like any other kissing I'd seen before, not because it was between two boys—hell, I'd been on the receiving end of a same-sex kiss less than twenty-four hours ago—but because of the intensity, each partner's obvious hunger for the other.

When my parents would kiss in front of me, my mother would always break off and, in a tipsy voice, suggest that I "go outside and play while I was still young," or "read a book in my room" before things got too hot for my innocent eyes. I'd never actually seen two people truly _making out_ and sexual education classes had not prepared me for witnessing real-life passion. My heart was pounding and I hadn't even been participating.

As I ran back to my room I tried to cleanse my brain of the memory. But, to my horror, I couldn't, and worse, it was distorting in my mind so that I _was_ participating. _I_ was the one with his back against the bearskin, not America, and the warm body on top of me wasn't Britain, it was Su-san. Su-san's hips were between my thighs, his hands under my shirt, his mouth was connected to mine.

These things had felt so horrible and frightening when Denmark was doing them against my will, but when I imagined Su-san doing them to me, imagined letting him, it felt… I wouldn't let my brain finish that thought.

_Gah! What is wrong with me? I'm a certified pervert is what I am! Su-san is kind and dear and maybe kind of scary, but a really good guy inside. Yes, he's handsome, but that doesn't give me the right to violate him with my mind. I need to get a grip!_

I had to stop in front of the door to our room for a minute to get myself calmed; hopefully Su-san was getting some much needed sleep inside and I did not want to wake him. A few deep, slow breaths and I was relaxed enough to delicately maneuver the doorknob open—not an easy task with arms full of books and Flower-Egg—and slip inside without making a sound.

Although I'd never seen the inside of this room, my eyes didn't take the time to look around; they went straight to Su-san and wouldn't leave him. I was happy to find him stretched out on his bed sleeping. The way he slept—on top of the covers, glasses still on, open book across his chest—told a story: He'd been trying to stay awake, despite my advice, but had lost the struggle due to biological need.

The cliché about sleeping people I knew, that they looked so peaceful, did not apply to Su-san right now. He looked tense; his eyebrows quivered intermittently and the harsh set of his mouth that was so intimidating in waking was still firmly in place. Maybe he was having bad dreams. It wouldn't surprise me, with the awful things he'd lived through. I wished there was something I could do to sooth him without rousing him, but I didn't even know how deep a sleeper he was.

After depositing Flower-Egg and the books I'd borrowed from China on the other bed, mine from now on, I turned my attention back to Su-san, creeping close on tiptoes. My fingers gripped the earpieces of his glasses and I tried to pretend they were made of spun glass as I eased them off of his face. He didn't even flinch. Next I picked up his book, marking his page with a scrap of paper off the nightstand, and set it aside along with his folded glasses.

Tucking him in would be a bit trickier, since he was sprawled on top of his sheets and blanket. I was smart enough not to try and coax it out from under him, though, so I took the cover off my own neatly made bed and spread it over him.

He actually did look more comfortable now, peaceful even. His features had relaxed and softened. I couldn't resist moving in just a little closer, and like a stealth assassin, uninvited thoughts of kissing struck again. He was like Sleeping Beauty, a cursed princess—well, prince—awaiting a kiss that would miraculously cure him.

I sighed. If only a kiss really would get rid of his curse. Of course, even if it could, I doubt I would be the one designated to administer it.

Suddenly Su-san stirred in his sleep, causing me to recoil with a small gasp. "Nn… Tino…" he muttered, and my heart sped up. I watched with held breath as his brows scrunched in distress and a moment later his eyelids fluttered open to reveal his blue-green irises. "F'nland." My name was a sigh of relief from his lips.

"Hey, Su-san," I said softly. "I'm so sorry. Did I wake you up?"

He shook his head. "No. I would a woken up 'nyway. Was having a dream. Don't r'member what 'bout though."

Heat I'm sure was visible oozed into my cheeks but I couldn't bring myself to mention that he'd said my name, my _real_ name, just before he woke up. It made me feel a flurry of excitement to think that I was starring in his dreams, but I had to keep my composure. "You should try to go back to sleep, Su-san," I said.

"Can't," he said simply. "Too worried s'mething'll happ'n t' ya."

"What?" I squawked in exasperation. "Are you saying you're never going to sleep ever again? Su-san that's really…" Before I could say 'unreasonable,' Su-san's arms reached out, snagged me by the waist, and yanked me off my feet and onto his bed. I was too stunned to react with anything other than embarrassingly un-manly noises.

He shifted our positions so that my head was on his pillow and his was on my chest, one ear right above my pounding heart. "I c'n sleep like this," he said. "This way I c'n hear th't yer still alive, F'nland, know th't yer 'lright."

"Uh…" My muscles were all anxiously taut, including ones that affected my voice, so it came out squeakily. I couldn't think of what to say, anyway. Pointing out that he wouldn't be able to hear my heartbeat while asleep would be counterproductive. His strong arms were still wrapped around my midsection; he was clinging to me like a child to his beloved teddy bear. "Sweet dreams, Su-san," I sighed.

"Y' c'n talk t' me 'ntil I fall asleep," he said.

"Okay," I said softly. "I do owe you the story of my life, after all, though I have to warn you that it isn't very interesting. It'll probably do a good job of putting you to sleep."

"I wan't t' hear."

I pulled the rumpled blanket over both of us and began my boring life story for him, trying not to dwell too much on how wonderful and _alive_ my parents were. I just told him that my dad worked as a town official and that my mom was a former chef who now wrote cookbooks and was something of a local celebrity.

"We used to live way up north when I was really little, I think it was near the border with Sweden, actually. But my parents decided to move south after I got lost out in the forest during a blizzard and almost died. It's pretty lucky, I guess, that I was too young then to remember it now. I still get dreams sometimes about being buried in snow, though. In fact…"

I was going to tell him that I'd dreamt about it last night, but the steady rhythm of his breathing, soaking humidly through my shirt, told me he was already asleep. He was so vulnerable and childlike curled against my chest this way and my arms instinctively moved to hold him tighter. It amazed me how someone so physically strong, so frightening in the expressions of his face, had become someone so precious that I wanted to protect him with my very life.

Even if my time was limited, there was enough of it left that I could spend this afternoon just holding Su-san as he slept. Soon Flower-Egg, tired of being ignored, jumped down from my bed and leapt up onto this one and settled into the juncture between our two bodies. Like last night on the cliff, we were the only three souls in the universe.

Su-san didn't wake up until the light pouring through the windows had turned an orangey pink. The first thing he said upon lifting his groggy head from my chest was, "Y' hungry, F'nland?" And I had to smile because he had the impressions of my shirt's creases on the side of his face. He was so cute in his strange, Su-san way.

As we walked together to the cafeteria I could feel the stares coming from every direction, nothing I wasn't expecting. The hiss of blended whispers could be about any number of things; the fact that I had emerged along with Sweden from what was still known to be exclusively his room, the bandages wound around my head, the puppy in my arm. Or maybe they had already heard about what happened last night, in part or in full, and were discussing the showdown they'd missed in hushed voices.

I was mildly curious about what versions of the events might be swirling around the rumor pool, but I wasn't too concerned.

The reception we got upon entering the cafeteria, however, was stunning to say the least. Students who were already seated turned to look at us and the buffet line stopped as those who were being served did the same. The looks they gave me were of sympathy, the way most people look at individuals with obvious injuries. But towards Su-san their eyes didn't carry the usual mix of fear and loathing that they'd quickly flash before looking away and pretending he didn't exist. There was still fear there, plenty of it, but there was awe as well. It was almost like the fear a person has for his or her gods, a fear that borders on reverence.

"Finland, is it true what everyone is saying?" The voice belonged to my friend, Estonia, who had rushed forward to greet me and looked more worked up than I'd ever seen him get over something that wasn't studying.

"That depends on what they're saying," I said, blinking in shock.

He adjusted his glasses and answered enthusiastically. "The story I heard is that Denmark attacked you with a battleaxe and Sweden kicked down your door and saved you just moments before you got chopped in half."

"That's not quite how it happened," I said. I had to decide quickly how much of the truth to tell. "Denmark didn't attack me, he just… did something to me to scare me and upset Sweden. Then when Sweden came to rescue me and stop him, Denmark attacked _him_ with an axe. I just got hurt accidentally."

"Oh," Estonia said, a tiny bit disappointed. The real story was just a notch below the distorted version in terms of excitement. "Well, we're all just glad that you are okay." His eyes shifted to Su-san at my side and he nodded cautiously. "Good job, uh, Sweden."

I watched him join Latvia, Lithuania and Poland at a table with lightness in my chest. Though timid in his approach, he'd actually spoken to Su-san. I turned and looked up at Su-san and cringed at the scowl he was wearing, an even more extreme version of his old standard.

"You… you don't need to scare them off, Su-san," I said urgently, grabbing his hand. "I know you aren't used to the attention, but it's going to be okay. They just… they're impressed because they heard that you acted like a real hero last night. You really did, Su-san."

His severe expression softened a little and I squeezed his hand as we got in the queue for the buffet, which was now moving again. We both chose spaghetti Bolognese and I could see Italy give a thumbs up from his seat with the Student Council. Even though normal mealtime activities had resumed, there were still eyes on us. I chose my bread and salad quickly, grabbed an egg and some chicken for Flower-Egg, and hurried to find a table.

The one we ended up at was somewhere in between Su-san's unofficial spot in the corner and my usual place with Norway and Iceland, by ourselves but not isolated.

"You _aren't_ dangerous, Su-san," I told him as I fed Flower-Egg bites of chicken. "If you don't want to let people get close to you that's fine. But don't push them away because you think you are dangerous and don't deserve friendship. You _do_ deserve friendship, Su-san. And love." My body stiffened as soon as I heard that word come out of my mouth and I could feel the hot scarlet in my face. It was true, of course; Su-san was more deserving of love than any person I could think of. Still, I quickly changed the subject to something less likely to embarrass him. "So, uh, two weeks with no classes will be nice. It'll be a good time to get me and Flower-Egg settled in our new home."

"Sorry to interrupt, but do you mind if we sit at your table?" There was a gentle tap on my shoulder that went along with the familiar voice and Norway's impassive, cornflower blue eyes met mine when I turned. Iceland was standing next to him.

"Oh, um…" The request was so unexpected that I didn't have a response ready. My eyes sought Su-san's and I spoke in a soft voice meant only for him. "It's up to you, Su-san. If you don't want anyone else to sit here it can be just you and me. Or… or just you, if that's what you want. Though I hope that's not what you…"

Just as I was starting to fret out loud to him, Su-san silenced me with a finger on my lips, which, no matter how many times he did it, never failed to send a jolt of pleasure up my spine. Then he looked over my shoulder at my friends. "Y' two should sit 'ere, since yer frien's w'th F'nland."

"Cool," Norway said dully.

He and Iceland pulled out chairs on the opposite side of the table, the farthest ones from Su-san, though their choices may have been on a subconscious level. It didn't bother me, anyways. I was ecstatic merely over their willingness to be within a three-meter radius from him. And he had invited them. Maybe things were really starting to change.

For the first several minutes together there was no conversation, just the clinks of silverware on porcelain plates as the two across from us ate and watched, sizing up our relationship. That initial feeling of joy stalled in my stomach and twisted uncomfortably under their disconcerting gazes; Norway's especially. I was no longer secure in my assumption that they were warming up to Su-san.

And then it suddenly struck me just how atypical everyone's reactions to the situation really were. Wouldn't most teenaged boys, upon hearing rumors of a fight between an admired classmate and a reviled outcast, assume that the latter was the guilty one? Yet everyone had looked to Su-san with fearful awe, and the circulating rumors cast him—accurately—as the defender and Denmark as the aggressor. It just seemed a little too good to be true.

While Norway continued to observe, Iceland spoke calmly. "So Sweden, several slightly different stories about you have been going around the school today, but they all seem to indicate some heroics on your part. Is it true that you rescued our friend Finland last night?"

"Nn." Su-san's response was a noncommittal grunt with eyes averted.

I could tell he was embarrassed, not used to our classmates talking to him, and piped in an answer on his behalf. "He did rescue me. And he was very, very heroic."

Iceland's small, pleasant smile sent relief through me like cool liquid. But Norway was still unreadable. He looked down at his fork as it rolled a cherry tomato around on his plate with no apparent intent to eat it.

"He isn't a bad person," he said in a low voice. "Denmark, I mean."

"I… I don't think so either," I chirped. "He just has some problems he needs to work on." There was a limit to what I could say, though. Denmark's history with Sweden was not mine to tell. "I think he tried to act cheerful all the time and that his angry feelings just built up inside him until he lost control."

"Yes," Norway said, his tone lighter and his eyes brighter.

"Boys of St. Hetalia, may I have your attention?"

America's booming voice filled the room and we all gave our attention to the Student Council's table. I felt a an awkward flush in my cheeks when I saw England sitting there at America's side and my brain regurgitated the scene of them groping in the Student Council Room this morning. My gaze went askew and I had to wonder if I would ever be able to look directly at those two again without disturbing flashbacks.

"Now," American went on to his captive audience. "I don't know if any of you are gathered here today that weren't present at lunch, but for the benefit of all, I will repeat the announcement that I made then. Last night there was a physical confrontation between two students, Denmark and Sweden. To reiterate the proclamation from lunch, the Student Council has determined, beyond any doubt, that Denmark was the instigator of violence and Sweden's actions were strictly defensive.

"I think the message has already gotten around to pretty much everyone by now, but I've been told there are still some mutterings about how Denmark was framed or set up. Such allegations are false, and if they lead to any sort of misconduct, the Student Council will take _immediate_ action."

So that's why Su-san didn't get dog piled when he walked into the cafeteria. I was glad he'd been safe in our room before and during lunch.

"Alright," said America in a conclusive tone. "If there are no questions, I will kindly loan the spotlight to Student Council Historian, China." Before sitting down he took a deep bow; a bit full of himself, yes, but definitely confident and charismatic.

China stood up quietly and humbly—the complete antithesis of America in many ways, but he had a commanding presence nonetheless. His voice didn't boom but it was even and clear. "My fellow Hetalians, as the official delegate for the St. Hetalia Founders' Guild, it is my duty to inform you of their official decision regarding young Denmark's punishment."

My stomach knotted up at the announcement. The Founders' Guild had finally decided his sentence. Would he stay or would he go?

"I know that this is not a normal occurrence here at St. Hetalia," he continued. "Due to the diligent work of the Student Council and the cooperation of all students, serious violations of school rules have been few and far between throughout the school's rich history. But the fact is, violence on any school property is prohibited and must be disciplined. Therefore, by decree of the Founders' Guild, the young man known as Denmark will be subject to a month long shunning."

Like a powerful gust of wind, the sounds of confusion—a lot of "huh?" and "what?"—swept through the cafeteria. Iceland and Norway looked downright vexed, though I think there may have been a twinkle of relief in Norway's eyes. Relief was all that I felt. Denmark wasn't being kicked out of St. Hetalia, which meant that China had convinced the Founders' Guild to go with my alternative.

China cleared his throat rather loudly and restored order. "Beginning tomorrow morning, when he will be released from custody and rejoin the rest of the student body, Denmark will not be permitted to speak to anyone except teachers as it directly relates to class work. Likewise, none of you is permitted to make any social contact with him. You will treat him as you would an outcast for the duration of the month of August. Failure on anyone's part to oblige by this ruling will be penalized. That is all. An official memo will go out to all students later tonight as a reminder."

He sat down and eating resumed amidst a din of hushed voices. I, however, was silently overflowing with joy and probably grinning because of it. Silly and self-centered as I knew it was, I felt like this was a victory for me as much as for Denmark. I'd had a hand in keeping him here at school and that meant there was still a chance for him to heal his relationship with Su-san somehow.

The rest of dinner was a bit awkward at our little Nordic table, but not uncomfortable really. When it had been the four of us—well, the _other_ four of us, without Su-san—Denmark had really been the driving force behind most of our conversations. And, while Norway and Iceland were of course still wary of the boy whose reputation still stood as cursed, Su-san was probably even more wary of his own legend.

But whatever everyone's feelings were, we all stayed together at our table until the end and parted ways amicably. The other two even said goodnight to Sweden and Iceland added, "See you in the morning," which would seem to indicate that they planned on joining us for breakfast tomorrow as well.

Su-san and I headed for our cliff to give Flower-Egg a chance to run around and do her business, and I was happy for it to be just us three again for a while.

"Some dinner," I said as I plopped myself down on the grass next to him. "My friends didn't make you too uncomfortable with their staring, did they? I don't think they meant to offend."

"I didn' mind th'm," Su-san said, face tilted up to the purple sky above us. "Icel'nd 'nd N'rway seem like nice guys."

"They are," I said. "They really are. And I'm sure they'll become your friends too if you want."

Those blue-green eyes descended to my face and I could see the anxiety loaded behind them. "I d'nno if I should g't too close, F'nland. It's risky 'nough w'th jus' you."

His words stung like a thorn snagging into the muscle of my heart. Nobody should have to think of making new friends as risky. "You don't have to worry about Iceland and Norway, or anyone else," I told him. "No matter how many friends you want to have, I will act as a buffer. I'll make sure to care more about you than anyone else in the world so that if anyone gets hurt it will be me."

Su-san's eyes flared as if green flames had been lit inside them and I knew that I'd made a terrible mistake in my attempt to comfort him. "Of course I _won't _get hurt!" I declared.

But Su-san was already up on his feet, raking both hands down his face. "This's why y' shouldn' be living w'th me, F'nland," he growled in anguish. "I can't stand fer y' t' get h'rt."

He'd turned away from me but I sprang upright and lassoed his torso with both arms. "I told you I wouldn't!" I stammered against his back, hugging tightly. "I'm not going to let myself or anybody else you care about die before their time!" I almost attached 'because I'm going to break the curse' to the end of that statement but realized better just in time. Su-san definitely would not condone my plan, way too dangerous in his mind.

The tense muscles I embraced unclenched as Su-san let out an inaudible sigh. "C'mon let's go back t' our room."

My grasp loosened and he slid out and grabbed hold of my hand—I kind of hoped his touch would never lose this power to turn my skin into an excited sea of goosebumps. Then he whistled for Flower-Egg, I scooped her up, and we headed home. Home was where Su-san was, and although it was still months away, I was already entertaining thoughts of inviting him to spend the winter holiday in Finland with me. By then the curse would be broken. Yes, I would see to that.

…

And so, my days with Su-san began. Our first week together consisted largely of getting used to things.

For me, it was getting used to waking up and discovering Su-san asleep on my chest like a kitten—it didn't happen every night, just two or three times, but how he got into such a position without me noticing was a complete mystery—and getting used to using a bed, a dresser, a lamp, whose previous owner was deceased. I never dared to talk about Old Finland; mostly because I had never known the boy and I didn't want to risk anything I said being disrespectful to his spirit. But also because I didn't want to accidentally trigger any sort of comparisons to be drawn between the two of us, favorable or not. I wasn't aiming to replace anyone.

For Su-san, it was getting used to being seen as less of a monster by our classmates, to being acknowledged. I couldn't really say that he was popular yet since Iceland and Norway were still the only ones bold enough to speak to him regularly besides me, and they only exchanged very simple questions that required mostly monosyllabic responses. But there was a perceptible reduction in fear and an increase in casual eye contact. I could tell it made him anxious, but all in all, Su-san was handling the change with remarkable poise.

For Flower-Egg, it was getting used to the new rules and restrictions of being a pet, which included wearing a collar. Su-san had made it from an old leather belt of his and I had adorned with star-shaped silver ornament my grandmother gave me—though I had been using it as a zipper pull for an old jacket. With that, she was officially domesticated.

All of us, everyone in the entire school, had to get used to pretending Denmark wasn't sitting sullenly in the corner of the cafeteria, of the library, of classrooms, and skulking alone through the hallways. Even though I couldn't excuse his treatment of Su-san—and me, I suppose, though I really considered myself more as collateral damage in his vendetta against Su-san—seeing the boy who had been my very first friend here shunned and isolated wasn't easy to bear.

To Denmark it must have looked like Su-san had usurped him, taken his roommate and his seat in the cafeteria, and that was not exactly conducive for forgiveness.

But Su-san and I didn't talk much about Denmark. It was a topic neither of us would broach. And, really, it wasn't my top priority right now. I had a mission. Whenever Su-san was engaged in reading I would pick up one of the books China had given me and pore over it, desperate to glean any information that might be useful from its pages. I wasn't having much luck so far, though, and it shamed me to admit that the writing was too advanced, the words too lofty, for me to get the full understanding of the text. By the end of the week, I was no closer to figuring out the nature of the curse than I was at the beginning.

But despite my lack of progress, despite my aching sympathy for Denmark, despite my days being quite possibly numbered, I couldn't help being happy. And it was all because I was with Su-san. He wasn't much of a conversationalist—he actually claimed to prefer just listening to me talk, inconceivable as that was considering how dull and silly the things I said were—but he didn't need to be because just being near him made me happy in ways I couldn't explain.

Every day, I hoped I would hear word from China or England that they had succeeded in finding out more about the curse while I continued to fail at the task. But no such word came. I was still alive, though, and people were treating Su-san with more kindness than I'd ever seen. Maybe the curse was already breaking, undoing itself.

No, that was just wishful thinking. I had to get to work.

…

One full week passed, blissfully wasted on enjoying Su-san's presence and carrying out our new daily routine together as roommates—and, I liked to think, best friends for life. The brief summer respite from classes was half over and half remaining, the perfect point for false assumptions that I still had plenty of time to figure out this whole curse thing and could continue prograstinating. But once the new semester began, the task would only get more difficult. And, of course, there was the little detail that I could die mysteriously at any moment.

So on Sunday evening—the two-week anniversary of that first encounter with Su-san in the baths, if anyone was keeping track—I decided it was time to take action. As had become our usual, the two of us climbed the cliff-side stairs to my favorite spot in the world. There on the cliff, while Flower-Egg frolicked in the tall grass, hopefully tiring herself out, we let our dinners digest and watched the stars appear.

They came out one by one, as if some celestial deity were lancing holes through the darkening blue canvas, one-by-one, and letting heaven spill through in a million brilliant pinpoints. When I thought about it, this was really much more beautiful than any fireworks display. After all, this was all just done by nature. It would still be here even if there were no human beings on the entire planet. Fireworks were just a bunch of chemical compounds made and packaged in a factory somewhere.

No matter how beautiful, though, I couldn't manage to keep my eyes on the sky for more than a few seconds before they automatically flickered back to Su-san. The moon had waned in the last week to a glowing lozenge—a gibbous I think I'd heard it called in astronomy lessons—but it still beamed down enough of its light to transform his pale skin into milky quartz, his cream-colored hair into luminous platinum. My cheeks flushed hotly. Dang it! Why did I always have to think such embarrassingly poetic thoughts about him? Now I was going to look all flustered when I tried to ask him questions.

But I had to do it anyways.

"Hey, Su-san?"

"Yea, F'nland?"

My insides were doing that squirming thing they always did when I was nervous. He'd already told me everything he could remember of his childhood. Was it really fair of me to goad him further in the hopes of him dredging up some buried clue? And how should I even word it? Asking him if anything strange happened when he was a little boy sounded almost like a cruel joke.

"Um…" I was jittery from the start, not cool. "Before… uh, _before_ what happened to your parents, well, happened… was there anything kind of… strange that you can remember happening?"

He looked at me with furrowed brows. "What're y' asking fer?"

"No reason," I lied sheepishly. But tonight Su-san's eyes had a brand new talent to demonstrate: drawing the truth out of me like it was made of iron and they were blue-green magnets. I gulped and gave the real answer. "Well, I was hoping that maybe you could tell me something that would help me figure out how you got your curse so that I could break it. See, that's what all those books I've been reading all week have been for."

His face tightened into a landscape of angles and shadows and I flinched out of habit. "Yer trying t' break it?" He barked, about five times louder and angrier than I anticipated.

"Well, yes…"

"Stop!" he demanded. His relaxed spine wrenched up, straight as a rod, and his seated posture towered over mine like a veritable giant. "Y' don't know where th's might lead ya! If y' go digging int' stuff y' aren't meant t' find out, y'll wind up g'tting h'rt! It's not 'ny a yer busin'ss!"

I sprang to my feet to give myself the height advantage while arguing, but he did the same and dwarfed me yet again. Still, I would not back down—strange since I didn't even know what was spurring me on right now. My blood felt electrified, pumped by an agitated heart. Words, hot and angry, spewed from my mouth like vomit. "It is _so_ my business! If you have a curse on you, I'm going to break it and that's that!"

"If yer gonna do th't, y' can't live w'th me!" he roared. "Worse th'n dying, y'll wind up c'rsed yerself!"

My voice was set in shout mode now and wouldn't go any quieter. The words flew out without prior thought. "But it is a curse! Not to be able to do anything for the person that I love is a curse! I love you, Su-san! And I'm going to fight for you!"

And then I shut up.

Several minutes followed that were filled with nothing but the sounds of my own shaky breathing. "I have no idea what just came over me," I finally panted. "I… that's never happened before. I'm not usually a shouter."

Su-san stared at me, his face more inscrutable than ever, which was really saying something. "Y'… y' said y' loved me, F'nland."

"Yeah, I did say that." The sound of my own voice was underscored by the thudding of my heart as it exported blood through my vessels at a bass drum rhythm. I took a step closer to Su-san. Then another. "I want to break the curse because I love you. When you are unhappy, I'm unhappy. When I hold you in your sleep, I feel like I want to protect you forever. You don't even know what you've done to me in the short time I've known you. You make me want to be strong. To face everything I'm afraid of without blinking. You're everything to me, Su-san."

This wasn't even close to how I'd wanted the conversation to play out, but now that I'd said these things—which were all true, my utter inability to lie assured me that—I had to deal with however Su-san reacted to them. Every organ in my body felt like it was clenched with dread and anticipation, and I was afraid that if Su-san didn't say something soon I would throw up from anxiety.

He didn't say anything, but he did move closer, so he was standing right in front of me, and spooned one hand against the side of my face. I leaned into the touch like it was an involuntary reflex and my squirming insides instantly relaxed into a drugged-like calm.

"You don't have to return my feelings," I said dreamily. "Just let me stay near you. Let me try to break this curse. I'm in love with you, Berwald."

"Tino…" He breathed my name and my heart did a joyful back flip. There was longing in his voice. Then he leaned his head down towards mine and I could already see what was going to happen, something I wanted much more than I let my id tell my ego.

I closed my eyes and felt the hand on my cheek slide snakelike down the line of my jaw and cup my arched neck. In less than a second our lips would connect and form my first _real_ kiss. "Berwald…" I purred while I still had the chance.

The hand clamped tightly on my neck and I gasped, my eyes shot open. "Ber…!" I couldn't even croak out his full name because the hand, strong as a gorilla's, was squeezing harder and harder, severely limiting my access to air. Frantically, I clawed at his fingers, trying to pull them from my throat, but they wouldn't budge a millimeter.

"You little filth!" The hiss issued from Su-san's lips, had the timbre of his vocal chords, but it wasn't Su-san. It couldn't be. "We don't need the likes of you! Scrawny Finnish weed of a boy! You die now!"

And suddenly I felt myself being lifted off the ground by my neck, the fingers around my throat digging under my jawbone as gravity tried to pull me back to earth. I felt a breeze; my body was being carried somewhere. My head was thrown back to accommodate his hand less painfully, so all I could see was up, but when the fringes of the treetops left the edges of my vision I knew that I was being dangled off of the cliff.

I was about to be murdered by Su-san. No! Of course not by Su-san! By whatever curse was inside of him. I had failed. My crushed body would be found somewhere behind the school—maybe tonight, maybe not for days or even weeks—but as soon as someone noticed I was missing, Su-san would be more vilified than ever, and he wouldn't even remember doing this.

I had to see his face one last time; it had to be the last thing I saw. With excruciating force, I pulled my chin down and was able to find his eyes with mine. But the eyes set deep into Su-san's face weren't the ones that had haunted me since my first day at St. Hetalia. Even in the moonlight I could tell that the eyes starring back at me were far darker than Su-san's, darker than Denmark's. They were ultramarine and filled with malice. Su-san's face may have been scary, but the face of the activated curse was absolutely sadistic.

My eyes locked on the curse's eyes, injecting all my hatred for it, all of my love for Su-san, whose life it would continue to ruin.

Then, without warning, I was pulled away from the cliff and set on solid earth. My throat was released and I fell to my knees gasping, fingertips touching the skin of my neck, which felt raw and on fire. But I couldn't let my guard down. My eyes shot upward and found Su-san, still in full curse mode, staring down at me with great interest.

Why had he spared me?

The moment I thought I might be out of danger, its arms—which rightfully belonged to Su-san—picked me up with alarming tenderness and hugged me against Su-san's chest.

"You came back to me," it cooed through Su-san's mouth, and it sounded so strange to hear his voiced being used like this. "You came back to me, my Astrid. I've been waiting so long. But now you're here in my arms. My wife! My beautiful wife!"

Then he—whatever it was, I figured it was male since it had a wife—pressed Su-san's lips against mine in a kiss that was all passion on his side and shear horror on mine. I wanted to kiss Su-san, not… whatever this body-snatching curse guy was!

I kicked and flailed and twisted my body and yelled. "I'm not your wife! I'm a boy! Whatever you are, get the hell out of Su-san and stop killing the people he loves!"

"Never!" he laughed maniacally. "Now that I have you back, Astrid, I'll never ever…" The voice stopped abruptly and Su-san's body fell like a giant bag of cement, sending me tumbling out of his arms and into the grass.

"What the…?" I pulled myself up to my knees, a bit dazed but not hurt, and looked at the body sprawled out in front of me. Standing over him in a kung-fu stance was China, wild-eyed like I'd never seen him before.

"I sensed a spiritual presence and came as quick as I could," he said, voice as sharp as a sword. "Tell me what happened."

"I…" The saliva in my mouth felt as thick as glue when I tried to speak. "I think the curse… just struck again. You… didn't hurt him, did you? Sweden is okay, right?" I shimmied on my knees to get right at Su-san's side. There was something stuck on his forehead, a strip of white paper with Chinese writing on it. I reached for it and China snapped at me.

"Don't remove it!" The hand retracted immediately and he continued more calmly—though still gravely serious. "That spell tag is what I used to put him to sleep. It will last for twelve hours or until it is removed. Now, you said the curse struck again. Please explain what you mean."

"Well," I said. I had picked up Su-san's limp, heavy hand and wasn't even looking at China. "We were up here together and…" I paused at the onset of a fresh blush. "I told him that I loved him. Then I thought he was going to, well, kiss me, but his hand reached out and strangled me. His voice sounded like someone else was using his vocal chords. He didn't talk like Su-sa… like Sweden. And his eyes changed color to dark, dark blue. He was going to throw me off the cliff to my death, but…"

"Yes?" China urged.

The next part was so weird I was afraid he would think I was insane when I described it. "Er… Our eyes locked for a second or two and then he just stopped trying to kill me. After that—You aren't going to believe this, but I swear it's true—he called me a girl's name, Astrid, and he said I was his wife. That's when you showed up. Crazy, huh?"

China didn't say anything, which made me nervous, so I looked up to gauge the reaction on his face. His eyes were so wide I could see the whites almost fully around the iris. Something was definitely wrong.

"What? What's wrong?" I asked in a panic.

Without hesitation, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to my feet. "You must come with me."

"Wait! What?" He was starting to drag me away from Su-san and I didn't want to leave. "I want to stay with him. Why do I have to go?"

"Russia will be here any moment to take Sweden safely back to the school. I already told you that he will not wake up."

"But where are you and I going?" I asked. I tried to drag my heels in the ground, but China was amazingly strong.

"We are going to see the Founders' Guild," he said. "They need to be informed that Sweden is not cursed."

"Not cursed?" I shouted. "But I just told you what happened! How is that not a curse?"

In the span of a blink, China spun around and looked at me direly. "He isn't cursed, young Finland. He is possessed."

"Possessed?" The word slipped from my lips like a ghost.

"Yes," China said. "By the spirit of one of the St. Hetalia Founders. Ancient Scandinavia always was the rebellious one."

To be continued…


	10. Chapter 9

Free Talk: Thank you so very much for all of the generous reviews, favorites, and alerts. It means so much to me that I can't adequately put my gratitude into words. As often follows scenes of action, this chapter is more exposition and revelations. I really hope you like it. Please tell me what you think of the chapter. And again, thank you.

**Outcast**  
By Angelsaurus

Chapter 9

Ancient Scandinavia's eyes, which I had only seen as daubs of blue paint on a giant canvas, flashed in my memory and I felt the cold shudder of identification as my brain matched them to the terrifying eyes of Su-san possessed.

"If Sweden is possessed by the spirit of Ancient Scandinavia then all of those mysterious deaths…" My voice lodged in my throat, refusing to form the end of the sentence, so China finished for me.

"Yes," he said solemnly. "They were murdered by Ancient Scandinavia using Sweden's body."

Visceral anguish scraped behind my ribs like long fingernails. Su-san's own hands had started the fire that killed his parents, had held Maren under the water until she stopped breathing and staged the last Finland's suicide. Ancient Scandinavia had to be evilly brilliant to pull off those crimes without getting Su-san caught and locked up. But why was he doing this?

"Why?" I asked out loud, my voice cracking at the edges. "Why would Ancient Scandinavia murder anyone who gets too close to Sweden?"

"I am afraid I do not know the answer to that question," China said, and there was a vague hint of failure in his voice, as if he couldn't forgive himself for not knowing everything. "Since I do not know how Sweden came to be possessed, or what his connection to Ancient Scandinavia is, there are few available clues as to motive. Now, we really must get going, Finland."

"But…" I craned my head over my shoulder to look again at Su-san's still body stretched out on the grass and then back to China with pleading eyes.

Needing no further explanation, he gave a tiny, compassionate nod. "Alright," he sighed. "You may stay with him until Russia arrives to move him."

I felt like one of the twenty tight knots inside my chest had untied as I rushed back to Su-san's side. When I dropped to my knees and picked up his hand I was startled by how hot he felt. My head spun towards China who was standing behind me. "Something's wrong!" I shouted. "He's burning with fever!"

He crouched down and put a hand on Su-san's forehead. "He is quite hot," he said, though he didn't sound as concerned as I thought he should have.

"Isn't that bad?" I asked.

"Not necessarily," said China. "His fever is not due to illness. It's a symptom of the struggle that is going on inside Sweden's body as he and Ancient Scandinavia battle for control."

"Battle?" The word came out on an inhale and sounded strangely hollow. My brain conjured up the image of Su-san and Denmark locked in combat on the night of the bonfire party, replacing the latter with that fearsome Viking from the painting in the Student Council room. "Su-san is very strong," I said. "He only lost control of his body those four times as far as I know. And he wasn't burning up all the time in between."

"This is only a hypothesis, of course," said China. "But I suspect that Ancient Scandinavia was dormant for most of young Sweden's life, only taking over when the murders occurred and going back into hibernation, so to speak, afterwards."

"I wonder why he's putting up a fight now," I worried out loud as I pressed the scorching hand to my cheek like a heat pack. "Why won't he just give control back to Su-san like he has in the past?"

China's face pursed for only a very brief moment of contemplation before he replied. "My best guess is that Ancient Scandinavia has found incentive to retain possession of the body." He then shot me the strangest look, as if he were silently communicating something that should have been obvious to me, but I was failing to get the message. "You said he referred to you as his wife, Astrid?" he asked leadingly.

"That's right," I answered. The last words that Ancient Scandinavia said replayed inside my head: _"Now that I have you back, Astrid, I'll never ever…" _And the message finally reached me. "You mean he wants to stay awake because he thinks I'm his wife?" I yelped. "Couldn't he tell that I'm a boy?"

"You do bear a certain resemblance to her," China said. "In the eyes." He said it as if he'd actually known this woman.

"How… how do you know?" I asked curiously.

"As Historian, it is part of my job," he answered smoothly. "Hmm, but Sweden must be pushing back with all his strength to generate this kind of fever. If I were to remove the spell tag the struggle inside him would be much more evident, with thrashing and seizures. He could seriously hurt himself."

My stomach contents churned queasily. The thought of Su-san getting hurt did not sit well. But neither did the thought of him stuck in a spell-induced coma while his soul fought for ownership of what was rightfully his. "Even if Sweden is able to overpower him, Ancient Scandinavia will just go back to being dormant again, won't he?" I asked.

"Yes, he will still reside in Sweden's body," China said. "Poised to take control if the release is triggered and kill again."

"Can't you perform a… a…" In my distress it was more difficult to summon the word from my vocabulary. "An exorcism? Or, if not you, England, you know… with his dark magic?"

China shook his head with closed eyes. "If a possessing spirit is very attached to its host body or has a vengeful streak, exorcism could kill the true soul."

The word "kill" stabbed like a dagger through the center of my chest. I gulped and it felt like I was swallowing a particularly jagged chunk of ice that cut up my throat before dropping into my belly with a cold plunk. "There has to be another way!" I choked. "There's has to be a way to get that monster out of him without hurting Su-san!" At that moment I abandoned any hope I'd had that I could keep my emotions calm in front of China and threw my arms over Su-san's chest and let my tears leak onto his shirt.

A gentle hand touched my shoulder and China's equally soothing voice accompanied it. "You love him." He said it without a trace of doubt or condescension.

"Yeah," I said softly. "I'd always been told that it takes so much longer in real life than it does in books and movies, but it didn't. It was so fast and unexpected. I was in love before I even realized I was falling."

"It happens more often than you'd think," China said. "Even that old idiom _love at first sight_ has some truth to it."

I thought back to the day I arrived at St. Hetalia, to that moment in the cafeteria when Su-san—just Sweden to me then—lifted his head and I saw his blue-green eyes for the first time. Perhaps my feelings weren't such a recent development after all.

"You summoned me?" Russia's voice was deep and cold, like winter in Siberia; it made me shiver.

"Yes, I need you to transport Sweden here back to the school," said China. "Be very careful not to disturb the tag of his head."

"And be gentle," I added, pulling myself off of Su-san's body only because I knew it was necessary to move him. "Don't drop him or anything."

Russia looked at me with half a smirk and one raised eyebrow. "You have nothing to worry about. Your friend is in good hands." Then he stooped his massive frame and picked up Su-san's limp body with as much ease as me lifting little Flower-Egg.

"Bring him to my room," China said, springing nimbly to his feet. "Finland and I will meet you there." Then he grabbed my wrist and pulled me up once again, and before I could ask any questions we were flying down the stairs and back into the school. He led me though the hallways at a quick pace, not running, but walking briskly enough that I didn't have time to dwell on the shocked faces of students we passed on the journey. I was almost certain I saw a flash of cobalt blue, but it was behind us and gone before I could look to confirm.

The Student Council members' rooms were located in the east tower, the only students allowed such a privileged location, and though I'd never seen the inside of one of them, the popular myth was that the accommodations were semi-royal in their opulence. China pushed open the door to his first floor bedroom and my mouth fell open when I stepped inside. Like so many of the rumors that passed along the gossip train, this one had a nugget of truth at its core—the room was indeed bigger and fancier than the ordinary student dorms, with a fireplace and a canopied bed—but it was what China had added to the space that had me in awe.

Against one wall was an enormous bookcase packed just as tightly as the ones in the Student Council room, and displayed along the top were assorted artifacts and curios. One, a golden dragon with a long, undulating body and jeweled green eyes, was particularly impressive. On the other side of the room was a massive mahogany desk with stacks of more books, a large microscope, various clay jars labeled in Chinese, and an enviable collection of art supplies—ink stones, bamboo brushes, paints, pigments, and pencils. Some of the products of his creative endeavors were hanging on the walls around the desk.

"These are incredible. Did you paint them?" I asked.

"I did," he said. "Thank you."

Other highlights of the room included a gigantic, antique-looking globe of the Earth in an intricate stand that allowed it to be turned in any direction, several framed and apparently hand-drawn maps of China, a dozen shadowboxes filled with pinned specimens of butterflies and moths, and what looked like a perfect replica of one of the terracotta soldiers from that famous tomb. The guy had enough hobbies to occupy several lifetimes, and all of it must have been brought with him from his home in China. If I didn't have much bigger concerns I probably would have asked him how he managed it.

Less than a minute after we'd arrived, Russia showed up with Su-san.

"Set him down on the bed," said China, and Russia obeyed. "Thank you. You may go now, but do not share what has happened with anyone outside the Student Council."

Russia nodded curtly and said "Da," in his burly voice before disappearing.

China locked the door behind him and I gave my attention to Su-san.

"He's still so hot," I said as I stroked the back of my fingers down his cheek. "I guess that means they're still battling it out. If the fever lasts too long, won't it cause serious damage to his organs?" No answer came so I turned around. "Hey China?"

He was sitting down at his desk, head arched over a small set of brass scales. I moved closer, though it was hard to distance myself from Su-san, and saw that he was measuring out quantities of strange dried herbs and shriveled bits of organic materials from those clay jars. His concentration seemed so intense that I didn't want to disturb it by asking what he was making; something to help Su-san I assumed. When he'd measured out his ingredients, he dumped them into a granite mortar and began grinding rapidly with the matching pestle. Then, after rendering a fine grey-brown powder, China took the stopper out of a small, blue glass bottle and added a few drops to the mixture.

"This should help bring his body temperature down," he said, walking over to the bed. He started to undo the buttons of Su-san's shirt with one hand and I felt my cheeks flush.

"You… you have to undress him?" I asked nervously. I knew that stripping an unconscious person was perfectly ethical in a medical emergency, but I still had an instinctive desire to protect Su-san's modesty.

"Just his shirt," China answered, relieving some of my anxiety. "This salve needs to go on his chest, right over his heart. Would you like to do it, Finland?"

"Yes," I said. Of course I wanted to do anything that was in my power to help Su-san. I finished unbuttoning his shirt and peeled back the sweat-drenched sides. His bare chest was nothing I hadn't already seen in the bath, but I had only ever touched the scar and just one time. If he were awake I am sure my face would be as red as a tomato.

I took the mortar from China and scooped some of its contents out on my fingertips. The salve had a pungent earthy aroma that wasn't entirely disagreeable. When I spread it over Su-san's chest it grew cold to the touch and my respect for herbal medicine took a big leap forward. I liked being able to take care of him, even if my efforts wouldn't solve the underlying problem.

"He will be safe here," China reassured, and then went on in a more businesslike tone. "We really should get going now."

"Right," I sighed, pulling away from Su-san with aching hesitation, as if there was a cord strung between my heart and his that became tighter and more painful the farther I moved from him.

China must have read the distress in my expression because he came up behind me and stopped me from getting up with an arm on my back. "You know what, Finland, I think you've told me enough about what happened that I can report to the Founders' Guild on my own. You should stay here with Sweden while I speak to them."

"Really?" I asked, sniffing back tears I didn't even notice had started to form in the corners of my eyes. China nodded. "Thank you so much. But, uh, how exactly will you get in contact with the Founders' Guild? I mean, they must be at their separate homes getting ready for bed at this hour."

There it was again, that enigmatic sparkle in China's eyes that indicated that he knew a lot more than he chose to reveal to people. "They will be together," he said confidently. "And they will be awake. They reside within Saint Hetalia."

This was a prime example of information he had that I never would have guessed. "The Founders' Guild lives inside the school?"

"Not inside it," he said. "Under it. You are the only student beside myself who knows this. Now I really have to leave." China's attitude had certainly calmed down from the state it was in atop the cliff, but I could tell from his voice and his body language that he still recognized the urgency of the situation.

He stepped swiftly over to the terracotta soldier and pushed down on the right forearm, which stood stiffly out from its body to clutch an absent weapon. The arm bent like a lever and, with a dull groan, the stones that tiled the floor in front of the fireplace sank down.

I didn't even have time to form a wide-mouthed sound of wonderment before China disappeared into the hole, but it came out after he was gone. "Whoa. What is this place?" Of course, there was nobody around to answer that question. "I hope you're okay in there, Su-san," I sighed as I brushed his wet bangs up off his forehead, being very mindful of the spell tag. He felt a bit less hot than he had earlier, which was encouraging.

I tried to pass the time by massaging the remaining herbal salve onto Su-san's chest, since it appeared to be working. The expanding and contracting of his ribcage assured me that he was still alive. But despite this, my brain was a dense snarl of anxieties that could not be silenced or ignored.

If the fever was going down, did that mean that Su-san was winning or losing against Ancient Scandinavia? When the tag was removed, which one of them would be waking up? And what would the Founders' Guild have to say about the matter? Would they know how to separate Ancient Scandinavia's spirit from Su-san's body without hurting it?

Somehow I had to stay positive. If I let myself get disheartened I wouldn't be of much use. At least we knew what we were up against now. Wasn't the first rule of war to _know thine enemy_? There was only one outcome to this war that I could accept; Su-san had to be all right, had to have his life and his body back under his own control. Any alternative would be unbearable.

I settled into the space between his body and his arm, resting my head on his shoulder. Falling in love definitely didn't happen the way I thought it would. I'd always imagined I would meet a girl in high school or university in Finland who would make a good wife and we'd marry and live out the same life my parents had. Now all I wanted was to have Su-san, Berwald Oxenstierna, by my side forever.

The sound of his breathing, a soft and perfectly even cadence, lulled me into a false sense of peace and I caught myself almost slipping away once or twice. Each time I shook myself awake with a reminder that Su-san wasn't just taking a leisurely nap. But exhaustion was steadily increasing the weight of every part of my body, dulling my reflexes to sloth-like slowness, and before I knew it I'd fallen into fitful, dreamless slumber.

A nudge of my arm and a surprisingly crisp whisper were what roused me. "Finland?" China said. "Finland, are you all right?" I opened my eyes and the image of his face, with brow knit in concern, sharpened in front of them. "You were moaning in your sleep, having a nightmare it seemed."

"If it was a nightmare, I don't remember it." Sitting up woozily and rubbing my eyes, I found that every bit of me that had been in contact with Su-san as I slept was now soaked through with perspiration. My hand immediately reached for his. It was pleasantly cool and I sighed in relief. "How long was I out for?"

"It is almost sunrise," China said. "When I returned from my visit you were asleep and I thought it would be best not to disturb your rest. But when you started to make such troubled noises I decided to wake you. It is almost time to do the same for Sweden."

I looked down at his face, still paralyzed by China's spell tag, and swallowed nervously. "I just hope it's really Sweden who wakes up when you take that tag off."

There were things I wanted to ask China so badly, but now that he'd come back I found him strangely intimidating like I never had before. This guy knew the school's history like the back of his hand, whipped up fever-reducing medicines in a matter of seconds, and had a secret staircase in his bedroom that led to a mysterious underground cabal that nobody else even knew was there. When I stopped to think about it, that was pretty dang intimidating. Rather than look him in the eyes, I looked at his feet, and to my shock, saw that he was wearing fluffy white slippers with grinning Hello Kitty faces sprouting from the toe ends. Except Hello Kitty never grinned on any of the merchandise I'd ever seen.

"Uh, cute slippers," I said, redirecting my gaze to his face, which at least wouldn't make me laugh inappropriately.

"Thank you," he said, taking the compliment as completely serious.

"So what did the Founders' Guild have to say about Sweden's possession?" I asked anxiously.

He let out a sigh, closing his dark eyes for a meditative half-second and opening them again with a more sober glint in them. "They want to see him for themselves, to determine firsthand that it is really Ancient Scandinavia inside him."

"They're not going to do anything to hurt him, are they?" I asked.

China shook his head. "I would not allow it."

There remained a sense of unease in the pit of my stomach. "When he wakes up, we are going to have to tell Su-san what really happened to his family and friends. I can't speak for him, but if I found out a thing like that, I'd probably need some time before I was ready to talk to a council of strangers about it."

"Unfortunately, time is a resource Sweden might be running short on," China said, and I was taken aback by the tartness in his voice. "If Ancient Scandinavia takes permanent control of his body, Sweden's soul could disappear completely. Now, let us remove the tag and deal with things as they come."

I bobbed my head without saying a word; scared silent. My heart was bouncing up into my throat with each loud beat as I watched China's slender fingers slowly pluck the paper from Su-san's forehead. His eyelids twitched, scrunched tighter, and I held my breath until they opened up, blue-green and beautiful.

"Su-san!" I practically sang. "You're awake! You're _you_!"

"Who else would I be?" he mumbled groggily, but I was too overflowing with relief to respond.

My face buried itself in the crook between his neck and shoulder and my arms embraced him like they never had before. "Su-san! Su-san!"

"Wh't's going on?" he muttered, a bit more lucid. "Wh't happen'd 'nd where 'm I?"

"Welcome back to the world of the wakeful," China said, and I could hear the relief on his face without looking. "You are in my bedroom, recovering from quite an ordeal. I apologize for jumping right into an interrogation when you've just awoken, but what is the last thing you remember happening?"

I pulled myself off of Su-san and let him sit up. He touched one hand to his temple as if it would aid his retrieval of the memory. "F'nland, y' and me were up on th' cliff, weren't we?" His eyes connected with mine and his cheeks tinged pink; I took that to mean that he had remembered. "Y' told me… Y' told me th't y' loved me, F'nland."

"That's right." I could feel myself smiling like a lovesick fool despite the gravity of the current circumstances. "I wasn't lying." As I spoke, my face drew closer to his, dragged by an invisible tide. But a small, sharp gasp made me withdraw instantly.

Su-san's eyes had gone suddenly wide and his formerly blushing complexion had blanched white as a lily. "I black'd out!" he uttered, and for a moment he looked absolutely terror-stricken. Then he blinked a few times at me and visibly unwound a bit. "F'nland, yer still alive." His fingers reached out and touched my cheek to confirm my existence and I used my own hand to hold them there, pressed against my skin.

"I'm alive," I breathed.

"I don't 'nderst'nd. Why didn' th' curse kill ya?" There was marvel wrapped around his words and his eyes never left my face; it only made what I had to tell him next more wrenching.

"Su-san," I said slowly and sensitively. "The curse is… It's not what we thought it was. That is, when you blacked out…" My eyes were starting to prickle around the rims, but Su-san was still listening attentively and I had to be strong and straightforward for his sake. "When you lost consciousness, another entity awakened inside you and took control of your body. You were possessed."

His brow creased in puzzlement. "P'ssessed? Y' mean w'th a demon?"

I shook my head. "Not a demon. The spirit trapped inside you was once a living human being who passed away. He was one of the founders of this school. He's the one…" My voice cracked and tears dribbled down from my eyes. "He's been killing people who get too close to you and I don't know why." By now I sounded more frog than human and I turned my head to wipe it on the shoulder of my short-sleeved shirt before refocusing on Su-san.

He held his hands in front of him, glaring at them with the sort of disgust most often reserved for implements of torture. His chiseled lips were curled down in revulsion. "I'm a murd'rer… Kill'd 'em w'th m' own hands. I'm a monst'r."

"No! You are not!" The words fired from my mouth as adamant as steel and I lunged forward to grab the sides of his open shirt near the collar with my fists. "You are _not_ a monster and you are _not_ a murderer! Ancient Scandinavia is! He used your unknowing body to commit his crimes! You are innocent, Su-san!"

The look on his face was one I'd never seen on him before, never even imagined on him, which made it even more frightening than his signature frightening expression. His eyes were downcast, agonized, and his mouth quavered. When he spoke, his voice matched his face. "Th' last thing Mar'n must a seen was me hold'ng 'er under water w'th m' hands. M' hands're what kill'd 'er. An' Mama an' Papa. An' th' old F'nland."

Because the horrors he'd experienced in his short lifetime, Su-san's heart had developed a protective shell and it was easy to forget sometimes that he was really still a child. It was moments like right now, like the times he curled up to sleep on my chest, that reminded me he was just a sixteen-year old boy, perhaps more fragile than any other.

"They know better now," I insisted though my dripping tears. "Wherever they went in the afterlife, I am certain someone was there waiting to tell them first thing that Berwald wasn't in control when his body did those things." This was an assertion I had just made up on the spot, but as soon as I said it I really was certain. No afterlife would allow its residents to condemn an innocent person in their minds; especially one they had loved and trusted so much in life.

"But why'd 'e kill 'em?" Su-san asked. "An' why didn' 'e kill you, F'nland?"

"We don't know why he killed them," I sighed. Then I shrank down a bit awkwardly as the next explanation was rather humiliating. "He tried to kill me. Tried to toss me off of the cliff. But he couldn't go through with because, well, he, uh, he kind of sort of… thinks I'm his wife."

For several seconds, Su-san just stared at me, stunned maybe, or perhaps amused. Was it funny that a murderous spirit thought I looked like a woman?

"Ya'd be a good wife," he finally said and I scowled.

"Husband!" I squawked. "I'm a boy!"

But he just ignored my argument and wrapped me up in a protective embrace. "He can't have y,' F'nland," he uttered possessively into my hair.

"I'm not going to let him have me," I stated firmly. "And I'm not going to let him harm anyone else who's important to you, Su-san. No matter what it takes I am going to rid you of your possession."

He separated our bodies and held me out at arm's length by the shoulders, eyeing me warily. "How d' y' plan t' do that? Y' aren't going t' do anyth'ng dangerous, are ya?"

"Well, I don't have a plan yet," I admitted. "That's why we have to go speak to the Founders' Guild of Saint Hetalia. China is going to take us."

Now, after many long minutes spent discreetly on the sidelines, China reentered the conversation. "The Founders' Guild would like to meet with you as soon as possible. I have already informed them of everything we know about the possession, so they will not be surprised. However, it is imperative that we waste no time before embarking."

"Do you feel like you can walk alright?" I asked.

"I can walk," Su-san replied, and then he swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood up on them, just a tad wobbly.

I got up and held him steady until he found his balance then turned to China with concern. "Are we dressed appropriately? Our clothes are all wrinkly and our hair is a mess. That won't offend the Founders' Guild, will it?"

"Not at all," he said. "They do not deal with students face-to-face so they have no set expectations. Though, Sweden, you might wish to button up your shirt."

Su-san did as advised and buttoned up while China—after switching to more appropriate footwear—walked to his soldier and pressed down the arm. Just as before, the tiles in front of the fireplace sank and he stepped down into the hole, gesturing for us to follow him. I stretched out my hand and Su-san took it, and together we descended into the darkness.

The hole in the floor was the top of a spiraling stone staircase, with the sunken stone tiles serving as the first several steps. As we plunged downward into the bowels of the school, the light from China's bedroom shrank overhead until it disappeared and, for a moment, we were thrown into blackness. My feet stopped and Su-san's did behind me. Then, from somewhere below us, came the crisp sound of a finger snap and all around us, tiny blue-flame lanterns lit up, illuminating the narrow shaft of the stairwell.

Deeper and deeper under the school we traveled; how many meters down was this place? It felt like at least half an hour passed before we reached the floor where China was waiting at the mouth of an arched stone tunnel. His face was composed and serious.

"The journey from here on is level," he said. "So this is a good time for me to prepare you young men for what you are about experience."

I squeezed Su-san's hand tighter. With all that had happened in the last two weeks, I felt I could handle just about anything, but I was curious to what about the Founders' Guild required advanced preparation and why speaking to them was considered an _experience_.

We started down the long tunnel, lit by more blue-flame lanterns, and China began speaking.

"Along with the Student Council, the Founders' Guild is one of the two sacred institutions of Saint Hetalia, but their role remains shrouded in mystery to most. You two will be the first students ever, besides the Student Council Historian, to meet with them. That being said, you are not to share what you see or hear with your classmates."

"Understood," I said. So the preparation was just the usual swearing to secrecy that I assumed was compulsory for meeting with mysterious shadowy associations. That eased my mind a bit.

The tunnel ended in an enormous set of double doors, made of bronze and illustrated with relief sculptures depicting scenes from various mythologies. Considering what little I knew about Saint Hetalia's Seven Founders, this seemed very in line with their tastes. Spanning across the two doors, a little more than halfway up, was the word_ HETALYA_—again in that archaic spelling—with the center 'A' split evenly by the seam where the doors met.

But China allowed just a moment for admiring the craftsmanship of the doors before he pushed one side open and held it while Su-san and I stepped through. The sight that greeted us inside made the bathing facilities look mundane by comparison.

There was no other way to describe it but as an underground palace. We had entered an expansive atrium of white marble that sparkled in the ethereal purplish light supplied by some unseen source. It wasn't radiantly bright inside—that simply wasn't feasible at this depth—but every remarkable feature, from the elaborate floor mosaics to the tall colonnades on either side of us to the ceiling frescoes of sky and clouds, was clearly visible and hauntingly beautiful.

"F'ncy," Su-san said.

"You can say that again," I uttered in awe.

"F'ncy," he repeated, and I could barely keep myself from laughing.

"I'm afraid there's no time for dawdling," China said, gliding in front of us with long strides. "They already know of our arrival and are waiting for us."

Su-san and I exchanged silent looks; mine an _'I'm with you to the end'_ look and his a _'you'd better not be planning something risky'_ look. Then we followed after China to the back of the atrium and through another doorway.

After a very short length of hall, we arrived at a room that, while not at all cramped, was small enough to feel claustrophobic after the one we'd just left. It was a rectangular room with walls made from the same shimmering marble, though hanging tapestries covered much of them. Along the rear wall, much like the Student Council's arrangements in the cafeteria, was a long pedestal and on it were seven chairs—thrones was really a more accurate description of them, as they were all uniquely and ornately decorated—each with a single letter carved at the top of their high backs. They spelled out _HETALYA_, of course. But only five seats were occupied.

"Sweden, Finland," China announced. "The Founders' Guild of Saint Hetalia."

I staggered a few paces forward with my mouth hanging open like a dumbstruck idiot. What I was seeing wasn't possible; I recognized every face that was looking down at us because I'd seen them already in the painting that hung above the fireplace in the Student Council room.

"F'nland, what's th' matt'r?" Su-san mumbled in my ear. He'd never seen the painting so there was nothing too shocking about this for him.

"These people," I whispered squeakily. "The Founders' Guild, they're… that is, they look just like the original Founders' of Saint Hetalia. I…"

"This isn't the time for idle chatter, kids," a voice boomed, not angry but merely loud. It belonged to the man in the center 'A' throne, the Roman Empire from the painting. He had ruddy skin, like he'd spent hours out in the sun, a wild mane of chestnut hair, and a mischievous grin. And he was dressed, from head to toe, like a Roman General.

"I'm sorry," I said, timid in his presence. "It's just that you all look just like the painting of the school's Founders. Even your clothes."

The man made a stunned face and turned his eyes towards China. "Yao, are we really wearing the same getup from when we posed for that dumb painting?"

"Not exactly, Alessandro," China responded, as unruffled as ever. "But they do look rather similar."

It felt like a bucket of ice water had just been dumped over my head. "You mean you really are the same people from that painting?" I asked, my voice almost comically shrill with shock now. "The Founders' Guild of Saint Hetalia is actually the original Founders of the school from… from almost five-hundred years ago?"

"That's right," Roman Empire—who China had called Alessandro—said proudly.

"And you're on a real name basis with China?" I asked. "Because he's the Historian?"

"No," the lovely woman sitting under the other 'A' said darkly. She was Ancient Egypt. "We call Yao by his real name because he's one of us."

"One of you?" I merely mouthed the words as Su-san and I watched China mount the four stairs up onto the pedestal and take a seat on the throne marked with a 'Y.'

"Whether ancient or modern, there is only one China," he said from his lofty perch. "And that is I."

In an unbelievable way, it all made sense. China was the perfect Historian because he'd lived through the school's entire history. He called everybody 'young' because, compared to him, they were. And this is why he was the only one allowed to communicate with the Founders' Guild. Nobody else knew the truth, not even the other members of the Student Council.

Now all of the lettered thrones were filled except for one, the 'T' throne, and I knew whose seat that must be. My hand clamped down hard on Su-san's, protectively. I could feel six pairs of eyes looking down at us with unreadable intentions and I realized why this room had such a mood of paranoia: it was set up for an inquisition.

"So Yao," Ancient Egypt said. "Which one of them houses the deserter?"

"The tall one, Sweden," China said. Then he turned and looked at me with eyes like black glaciers. "But Finland is the only one who can draw Torvald out."

To be continued…


	11. Chapter 10

Free Talk: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed this story, is following it, or has added it to her favorites! I feel very grateful for the support. This chapter took a little longer than previous installments, quite possibly because it is very full of dialogue. Dialogue is a bit trickier for me than action. While I would classify this chapter as more informative than thrilling, I hope it does answering some questions and helps set things up for exciting action to come. Please tell me what you think!

**Outcast**  
By Angelsaurus

Chapter 10

"What do you mean _draw him out_?" As I asked this, I put my body in front of Su-san's like a wall. What this would accomplish didn't even pass through my mind. It was all happening on an instinctual level; these people had triggered my protective response.

"There is no need for you to raise your hackles, young Finland," China said gently, and I relaxed a bit, but kept my guard up. "All I meant was that you are the only one who awakened Ancient Scandinavia and lived. Your resemblance to Astrid might turn out be an asset. But rest assured that I would not have you do anything that might endanger Sweden's body or soul."

"My stars, but he really does look like that Astrid!" The voice, lilting and girlish, belonged to Ancient Greece, who was looking at me with wide hazel eyes.

Strong arms snaked around my shoulders and I drew a sharp breath merely because it caught me off guard; I had no problem with Su-san touching me. "I th'nk y' folks owe us some expl'nations," he said, his warm breath kissing the back of my ear. "How've y' all been able t' live fer so long?"

China nodded. "Yes, you boys have earned the right to know. But first, I think a proper introduction to the members of the Founders' Guild is in order. Starting on your far left is Helena, embodiment of Ancient Greece."

"Pleased to meet you," she chimed.

Beyond just her voice, everything about her was feminine and lovely. My first impression from the painting had been Athena, but in person she was much closer to Aphrodite. Her skin was smooth and olive-toned with a faint luster like it had been dusted with powdered gold and her shape was soft and round in the very best sense of the words. Curls the color of bitter chocolate were piled generously on top of her head in a loose up do.

"And next to her is Evelyn," China continued. "The Ancient Celtic Isles."

She nodded. Here was another stunning beauty, this one with a complexion as pale as milk, save for a dappling of golden-brown freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her thin nose. Rust-red hair fell down her back in long, thick waves and her eyes were as bright green as sliced open kiwifruit. I vaguely remembered reading somewhere that green eyes were an indicator of innate magical talent—Vice President England certainly supported the idea—and if it really were true, this woman must be a sorceress.

"Torvald's chair is empty, of course," said China. "And then there is the Roman Empire, Alessandro, who you have already met informally."

Alessandro thumped his breastplate proudly, momentarily filling the room with a reverberating clang. "The spirit of the Roman Empire but named after a Greek conqueror," he chuckled. "How do you like that?"

The young man sitting next to him rolled pale grey-blue eyes in annoyance. He was Ancient Germania and the next in line for introduction. "Leopold," he said before China had a chance to. He put a controlled smile on his thin lips when he looked at me. His hair was long and dirty blond and his attire was a rustic composition of pelts and leather. The only thing needed to complete his Germanic tribesman image was a horse.

"Well then, you already know me," said China. "And that just leaves Ancient Egypt, Amunet."

The woman's painted lips curled up. "Pleasure."

Ancient Egypt was slender as a Siamese cat and held up her chin with as much elegance as one. Her skin was coppery brown, and her hair—or perhaps it had to be a wig to look so perfect—was pin straight, black as a crow's feathers, and cropped in a Cleopatra cut. Jet-black mascara outlined her dark, almond-shaped eyes adding to her feline mystique. Like the other two woman, she was incredibly beautiful.

"Together we comprise the St. Hetalia Founders' Guild," China concluded. "Now I am sure you boys have a lot of questions to ask, and I think we should move to a more accommodating location before answering them." He turned to Alessandro. "Shall we relocate to the lounge?"

"Ah yes, our guests will be much more comfortable sitting down," he replied, and he and the other Founders all stood in unison like a practiced church choir.

While the others walked down from the platform and filed through an inconspicuous doorway in the back left corner of the room, China came to us. "I know it must seem like stalling," he said softly. "But you will be able to relax much better where we are going." Then he indicated with a gesture that we should follow him.

Su-san's arms were still embracing me from behind and my own hands were hooked over them, holding them in place. I had to admit that our poses did not exactly project relaxation. But maybe I didn't want to be relaxed. After all, I still wasn't sure that I could trust these apparent immortals, who right now were acting entirely too laid back for the gravity of the current situation. And, truthfully, it did seem like they were stalling.

China, however, was a different case. He was my friend and I wanted to at least retain the trust that I'd had in him when I thought he was the sixteen-year old Student Council Historian and nothing more. It's not like China had actively deceived me; I had only assumed his age because he was in the same grade level as Su-san. But that icy look he had given me when he told his colleagues that I could draw the possessing spirit out of Su-san made my insides churn uneasily.

As I stood there, worrying when I should have been moving, the sheltering arms around me slackened and Su-san's warm hand slid into mine. "C'mon, F'nland," he said. "Let's go f'nd out th' truth."

"Right," I said with a determined nod. Whether or not the Founders' Guilt were trustworthy, whether or not they were stalling or failing to take the situation seriously, they were still the best chance I had of learning how to save Su-san. And that was all that mattered to me now.

Hand-in-hand, Su-san and I exited through the door the Founders had used and followed China's back around a corner or two until we ended up in a spacious room with a roaring fire—though I had no idea where the smoke went—and several different seating options arranged around it in an approximate circle. Our hosts were already making themselves comfortable in leather armchairs that were curiously identical to those in the Student Council room.

Alessandro hefted off the bulk of his Roman armor and hung it up on a wooden cross, which seemed to exist only for this purpose, and it settled with a resonant clank. Then he sank into his chair with a sigh, the last of the Founders' to do so. "You kids can sit anywhere that isn't occupied," he said in our direction. "The remaining armchair technically belongs to you, Sweden. Or, rather, to the guy taking up residency inside of you."

Su-san hastily towed me over to a loveseat on the opposite side of the room from Torvald's chair. "This will do," he said, giving my hand a squeeze. I wouldn't want to sit in my possessor's chair either.

The Founders' lounge had more in common with the Student Council room than just the armchairs and the fireplace, which was admittedly less fancy than the one upstairs. There were also crowded bookshelves and high ceilings, though the lounge had notably more works of art—the subjects predictably taken from the mythology and history of their seven favorite civilizations—and fewer implements of war. I also noticed another unique feature nestled in one corner of the room: a table laden with elegant crystal decanters, filled with what I was quite certain were various liquors and wines.

Helena, queenly in her leather chair, was clutching one such vessel and tipping its burgundy contents into a wine glass, and making a visual sweep of the room, I could see glasses of wine already in the other Founders' hands, everyone's except China's.

"Would either of you boys care for some wine?" Helena asked.

Alcohol was probably the last thing I wanted right now and the offer caused suspicion to itch on the back of my brain. Were they trying to get my senses dulled and reactions slowed? No, it was probably just a gesture of hospitality. But still, I wanted to stay sharp so I politely declined. "No thank you. We're underage, at least by Finnish law."

"Drinking laws don't apply down here, darlings," Amunet said in a voice that reminded me of a lioness purring. "Many cultures, past and present, would allow boys your age to enjoy wine. Are you sure you don't want any?"

"Quite sure," I said, and my eyes flitted up to Su-san's to observe his reaction. He nodded his chin assertively. It comforted me that we were of the same page of the alcohol issue and boosted my confidence. "Can we get this conversation moving?" I asked.

The Founders—minus China—looked at me in slight surprise, as if they hadn't expected any sort of boldness from a kid like me.

"Yes, let's get this meeting underway," Alessandro said, letting his face settle into a vaguely amused expression. Though none of the Founders looked a day over twenty-five, he had those creases at the outer corners of his eyes that people who spend a lot of time laughing and smiling get. "Sorry if we came off rather intimidating back there. As you can imagine, we almost never get chances to show off like that. Now, what do you want to know first?"

"How are you guys still alive after five-hundred years?" I blurted out impatiently. Even without a watch on me, I could tell it had been at least ten minutes since Su-san had first asked that question and gotten answer.

"I will tell you," China said soberly. At least he was taking the situation as seriously as I was and the others seemed to respect him, falling as still as statues when he spoke. "The seven of us began as strangers, seven young people from different corners of the continent, who met each other by chance and became friends because we shared the same dream: to build a school. It would be a school unlike any other that existed at that time, teaching both boys and girls from every part of the known world and imbuing them with the wisdom of the great ancient civilizations.

"We poured our very souls into the project. Once we had found this secluded bit of wilderness, far away from the prying eyes of those who would judge, we laid the first stone and a powerful spell was inadvertently cast. It was a spell that allowed us to live forever as the beating heart of the school."

My forehead scrunched in confusion. "Inadvertently?" I asked. "You mean you didn't intend to become immortal?"

China shook his head. "It was not intentional. Though, factually speaking, we are not immortal. Our souls are, and our bodies have not aged or suffered any disease or natural ailment since that day, but, as Torvald demonstrated, they can still be destroyed."

Torvald, The name sent a thin trickle of ice water down the center of my back. He was the St. Hetalia Founder that I needed to know about. "How was his body destroyed"? I asked, barely above a whisper.

"Suicide," China said dispassionately. "But I will get to that. When we realized that our bodies never grew older, never became sick, we knew that we had been blessed with a very rare gift and that it was intimately tied with the school. So, after running St. Hetalia from the surface for several years, we retreated to the underground to protect our corporal existences and our secret, and to continue carrying out the job we had started."

"Y' mean mak'ng all th' decisions 'bout th' school?" Su-san asked.

"That's right," China said with a nod. "But of course, governing from below presented certain challenges. That is why we created the Student Council and divided power between us and them. Naturally, somebody needed to act as an envoy between the two groups, and that task fell to me. Since the day we went underground, _China_ has always served as Student Council Historian."

Now that didn't make one bit of sense. "Hasn't anybody noticed that you haven't graduated for hundreds of years?" I asked in a loud and flummoxed way that made several of the Founders snicker. Even China looked mildly tickled.

"That is a very reasonable question," he said. "The answer being that I _have_ graduated from St. Hetalia, well over one hundred and fifty times, actually. Every three years I graduate, and the following semester I start fresh as a first year student."

"But…" I only got out one word of my next interrogation before China quieted me with a simple lift of his hand.

"Yes, young Finland, somebody surely would notice," he said, having assumed correctly where I was headed. "If I had enrolled each time using the same name and face."

I raised an eyebrow. "Okay, I understand using a different name, but… face?"

A bewitching chortle fluttered across the room. "I believe it's time for you to show them your talent, Yao," said the red-haired woman, Evelyn, as she gave the remaining wine in her glass a gentle swirl with a flick of her wrist.

My attention locked onto China and I knew that I didn't need to say "talent," with the intonation of a question, for him to know that I was asking. His brain had a habit of being one answer ahead of me.

"When you were recovering in the school infirmary, I mentioned that I possess some magical skills," he said. "And one of them is the reason why I was given the position of delegate." He stood up from his chair, calm and graceful, and closed his eyes. His lips twitched faintly at the corners, his nose wiggled slightly, and suddenly I was looking at a stranger's face; eyes, mouth, cheeks, nose, all had taken new shapes.

"How… how did you do that?" I asked, slack-jawed and staring.

The unfamiliar China chuckled softly; the sound of his laugh was still the same. "Like England's magic, it is an inborn talent that I have nurtured over the years. Learning to _act_ like an entirely different person, however, is something I have had to work hard at. Fortunately, not much change is needed for people to believe they are meeting a stranger for the first time. I daresay some of the students here think all Chinese people look more or less the same anyways. But a change of face and a slight body adjustment removes all doubt." He flashed an enigmatic smirk at me. "I can do more impressive transformations as well."

I wouldn't have believed what happened next if it weren't playing out right in front of my eyes. Like opening a release valve on a blow-up raft, China seemed to deflate inside his clothes. Starting from the roots and spreading to the tips, his black hair turned white, and then, even stranger, it appeared to retreat back into his skull until it was too short to be worn in a ponytail and the rubber band popped out. A mere second later, the wizened little man who had driven me from the train to the school was standing in front of me, albeit dressed in China's sagging brocade jacket.

"That's phenomenal!" I gasped. "So that was you who picked me up in the car?"

"Indeed," he said. Then he drew in a breath and inflated back into the China I was accustomed to and sank back into his seat with a sigh. The other Founders gave a perfunctory round of applause, acknowledging his talent even though they had seen it too many times to be genuinely impressed.

There was a brief moment of silence before the gentle pressure from Su-san's hand reminded me why we were here and I had to urge the discussion forward. "So why did Torvald kill himself?" I asked. It was a brash move, but understanding that guy was the best chance I had of learning how to free Su-san from his possession.

"Ah yes," China said, unperturbed. "Getting back on topic. The move underground meant leaving our surface lives behind, saying goodbye forever to those we loved. This was a difficult transition for all of us, but we were devoted to the school, six of us entirely. Only Torvald's devotion was split, for he alone had a spouse. When he descended with us, his young wife, Astrid, was left with the news that he had died.

"He never got over losing her. The years passed and his heart remained a world away with her, even after she remarried and had children and grandchildren. When word came that an aged Astrid had fallen terminally ill, he ran off—despite admonishment from the remaining six—to see her one last time. There was nothing we could do to stop him, but when he refused to return to us after Astrid's passing, we became seriously concerned."

"How come?" I asked. "If you guys can live forever, what's wrong with him spending a few years on the surface to grieve?"

My question cast a disquieting shadow over the Founders' faces and their spines straightened stiffly in their chairs.

"Torvald is one of us," Amunet said pointedly. "His place is here at the school."

"She's right, the Seven Founders belong together," Alessandro said and there was a hard edge in his voice, like he was stating an ironclad law. "Which is why Yao was dispatched to retrieve him. He was the last person to see Torvald alive."

"I witnessed his death firsthand," said China. "By the time I found him, he had already made up his mind to kill his physical body, and nothing I did or said could have stopped him from throwing himself off that cliff."

Next to me, Su-san fidgeted. "Off a cl'ff y' say? Awful way t' go if y' ask me."

China bowed his head solemnly for a moment and I wondered if he was remembering the horror that he witnessed. "Yes," he said, returning his gaze to us. "It was a horrific end for his body. But his soul, because of the founding spell, could not pass on to the next world. He might have wandered the globe restlessly for decades upon decades until he encountered you, young Sweden. Or perhaps he possessed other hosts before you. His aimless wandering was punishment for abandoning his family."

"But now the one being punished is Su-san," I said.

"And that is why we are all here right now," China said. "To figure out how to safely separate Torvald's spirit from Sweden's body."

At last our mission statement had been stated plainly. I felt bolstered, more determined than ever now that I'd heard Torvald's story. Of course, I was no closer to accomplishing my goal, at least not in any quantifiable way, but I was better equipped to face the challenge head on.

Since China had stopped speaking and appeared to be taking a moment of meditation, the other five Founders were back to their laid-back mood. Helena poured herself more wine then passed the bottle over Alessandro's lap to Amunet on the other side. Evelyn was leaning over the armrest of her chair to whisper something in Leopold's ear. It all dredged up that uneasy feeling I'd had about the Founders before.

"Come over here and let me take a look at you, boy," Alessandro suddenly said. I looked at him in astonishment and pointed shyly to myself, like I was asking a question. He barked out a laugh. "Not you, kid. I'm talking about your friend, Sweden."

I turned to have a soundless conversation with Su-san. A nervous, tightlipped expression told him that I wasn't sure if it was a good idea. With a pensive lowering of his eyebrows he said that he knew these guys were a bit strange. Then he steeled his face to let me know that he would be okay and I gave him the "if you have to" sigh. My hand remained wrapped around his as he stood up, holding onto him until he took enough steps away from me that it became impossible.

Because I was so focused on watching after Su-san, poised on the edge of the loveseat as Alessandro held his chin and assessed his face from different angles, it took me completely by surprise when Helena popped into my field of vision and grabbed hold of my wrist. Her dazzling white smile was disarming and I was dumbstruck.

"Come with me," she said in her sweet, musical voice as she yanked me up onto my feet. "I want to show you something."

"I… uh… okay…" I managed to mumble out as she led me like a toddler to the other side of the lounge. There resting on her knees was Amunet, her lean frame angled over an open hope chest. The whole time, my head kept twisting to look over my shoulder at Su-san. "This is about helping Sweden, right?" I asked.

Amunet sat up and smiled at me coyly. "Of course, of course," she said. "This chest here contains things we couldn't find any better place for and I think there might be some items that were left behind by Torvald." Then, without warning, she leaned in her face close to mine and for a moment I thought she was going to kiss me—I had to wonder if there something about me that invited unwanted kisses—but she merely stared at my face from centimeters away. "You know, you really do look like Astrid. It's in the eyes."

I swallowed my annoyance at being yet again reminded of my resemblance to a woman and simply said, "That's what I've heard."

She ignored me and dove back into the large wooden chest and Helena joined her. There wasn't enough room for three sets of arms to toil in there, so I just stood back and watched them sift through the contents, listened to the clinks and clatters as they foraged.

"Ah, found it!" Helena chirped. She pulled herself up and held out her discovery to Amunet. It was an old looking wooden box, roughly the size of a phonebook, with an intricately carved geometric pattern visible beneath a coat of dust on the cover. "This is the one, right?"

Amunet's eyes widened to saucers and she snatched the box covetously. "That's it!" she said in an excited whisper. She opened the hinged lid and tugged on my arm urgently. "Check this out, Finland. Astrid's wedding headdress. I can't believe we ended up with it."

While Amunet held the box, Helena lifted out the delicate crown from its velvet-lined cradle. It was an exquisite creation, a woven wreath of flowers crafted out of precious gold and studded with tiny ocean pearls. There was a long veil of tissue-thin lace, yellowed by time, attached to it. I was amazed that such a fragile treasure could have survived the centuries, especially if it was just tossed unceremoniously into this chest. But before I had time to think too much into it, the crown was on my head. Something cold touched my collarbones, a string of pearls slipped around my neck from behind.

And then several things happened almost simultaneously:

China sprang from his chair with a growl. "What the…? What are you doing?"

Amunet called out in a voice as clear as a bell. "Alright Alessandro, turn him around to meet his bride."

And I was shoved into the center of the room to meet a horrified pair of blue-green eyes.

My blood stream clogged with ice when Su-san's gaze connected to mine, my heart became one big frozen clot. Alessandro was holding him by the shoulders, aiming him right at me and I soon realized that Amunet and Helena were restraining me in a similar fashion. Either one of us could have simply turned his face away, but neither of us did in time. China leapt in between us but was likewise too late to prevent what happened.

Su-san's irises stained ultramarine as if a vial of indigo ink had been poured into the liquid aqua of them. His pale, chiseled lips curled up into a smile that was downright predatory and he moistened them with the tip of his pink tongue. And to think I used to find the real Su-san frightening.

He removed himself from Alessandro's grip as easily as someone shrugging out of a cape, and although the other Founders were calling to him—to Torvald, and asking if it was really him—his sights were set solely on me.

"What is the meaning of this?" China roared, but a mere swat from the back of Su-san's hand sent him tumbling backwards into one of the leather chairs with enough force to topple it over.

How could Torvald's spirit make Su-san's body so absurdly strong? It was futile to try to run or hide from him. He scooped me up in arms as sturdy as steel girders and cradled me against Su-san's chest. When he spoke, however, his words weren't for me but for the others who had swarmed around us.

"So you managed to lure me back here by using my Astrid as bait. Bravo. You five are just as conniving as ever. But you, Yao, seem to have gone soft over the years. Come on, now. Get up. I know you can."

China was up on his feet in an instant, his face a mask of simmering rage as he stalked over to the group. I never imagined he could look so furious. "You promised me there would be no tricks!" he snarled at his fellow Founders. "We agreed that the plan was to try and separate them!"

"Agreed?" Alessandro said with uncharacteristic smugness—inasmuch as I understood his character from the short time I'd known him. "If I recall correctly, we five wanted to do exactly what we just did and you were the sole objector. Sometimes, for the greater good, dissenting opinions must be thrown out."

"Greater good?" China growled.

Amunet flashed a conceited smile at him. "The Seven Founders are together once more."

Su-san's arm tightened possessively around me, making me squeak. "And I have my beautiful wife back," Torvald cooed, nuzzling Su-san's face into the crook of my neck.

I'd been too shocked to speak or struggle up till now—and knew that neither would do me any benefit—but my ability to keep still and quiet had just worn out. Useless as I knew it was, I flailed my arms and legs against his rock-hard body. I didn't even care that I had an audience. "I am not Astrid!" I spat. "I'm not a woman at all! I'm a boy! Can't you tell?"

Dark, dark blue eyes stared down at me as my fingers fumbled behind my neck for the clasp of the pearl necklace. Once it was off, I removed the wedding headdress and, not wanting to throw such beautiful artifacts on the ground, handed them off to China. I hardened my face into what felt like a very manly expression and patted my flat chest with an open hand.

"See? Boy! Not Astrid."

Torvald set me down, eyes never leaving my face, but kept his hands on my shoulders to prevent me from running away. Suddenly he loosed a booming laugh. "Oh course you don't have Astrid's body. But you are Astrid! I can see it in your eyes that you are Astrid reborn!"

"No!" I tried to push away from him with both hands but he just pulled me closer. "I am not Astrid! I'm Tino Väinämöinen!"

"So _you're_ Tino," he said with the odd intonation that indicated he had heard the name before. "You're the one he keeps calling for."

My heart jumped right into a racing rhythm. "Who?" I demanded, even though I already knew the answer in the pit of me. "Is it Berwald? Is he in there? Can you hear him?"

I could somehow tell from the quality of silence around me that every eye in the room was watching this Torvald version of Su-san expectantly, but none had the same investment that I did. My hope was chained to the answers to these questions.

"Oh yes," he said in a snakelike voice, seeming to derive some sort of sick glee from sharing this. "I can hear the boy. Berwald. Heh. He's surprised that you called him by his name instead of Su-san."

"He can hear me?" I gasped as a bolt of new excitement struck me like lightning. This was new; Su-san had never been aware during a possession before.

"It's a very strange feeling," Torvald said. "I've always been able to shove the boy into a unconscious compartment until now. It's like he's finally found the strength to fight back. But he's still completely outclassed. He's like a mouse in a glass cage in the back of my mind. No matter how hard he claws or how loud he screams he will never get out."

The thought of Su-san trapped in a cage made the bile rise in the back of my throat, anger so raw—like I'd never felt in my peaceful little life—that it frightened me. "I hate you!" I wailed, whipping my tight fists against him like ineffectual mallets.

"You say that now," said, untroubled, as he absorbed my attack like it was nothing. "But you are my Astrid, after all. Eventually you will come to love me like you once did."

"Never!" I spat. "I only love Su-san! Love Berwald! And I will see to it that you get the hell out of his body!"

Torvald grinned wickedly. "If you force me out I will take him with me, you know. If I can't be with the person I love, there's no way I'm going allow him the privilege. That's why the others had to die."

In one short speech, he'd revealed the motive behind his murders and admitted his capacity to give Su-san the same treatment. I felt sick. I felt terrified. I felt weak and desperate and helpless. Tears I couldn't control were gliding down my face and dripping from my chin.

"Yao, take the boy back up to the surface," Alessandro's voice commanded from somewhere nearby—I couldn't see him through my flooding eyes. "He has already served his purpose. And of course, I am deeply sorry for having to deceive you like that. Only for the greater good."

I felt China's hands grip onto my shoulders and pull me away from Su-san's body, and surprisingly, Torvald let him. As China guided me away—my body just wouldn't move of my own volition—I shot a final contemptuous glare at Torvald and the other Founders who surrounded him like a sinister cadre. It was painfully difficult to do since I felt so much affection for the boy that face rightfully belonged, but I was able to focus my loathing on the murderer inside him.

"I will be back," I hissed, though it came out more pitiful than menacing due to my crying, which still refused to stop. "I will be back to save Su-san."

Those bottomless ultramarine eyes narrowed on my face and Torvald spoke in a voice that was low and hungry. "I'm counting on it."

China didn't say a word as he ushered me out of the lounge, through the interrogation room, through the columned atrium that I couldn't find any beauty in at the moment, and out the bronze double doors. He didn't say a word as we trudged zombie-like up the towering spiral staircase and my tears ran out and my crying became soft hiccups. Only after we'd completed the half-hour journey back to his room where I collapsed to my knees on his floor did he finally speak.

"I'm so sorry, Finland," he said and there was genuine, heartbreaking guilt in his words. "I had no idea that they were planning to manipulate you and Sweden like that. And I'm sorry that…" He paused. "I'm sorry that I wasn't able to stop it. I gave you my word that no harm would come and I failed to keep it."

My sore and swollen eyes turned up to look at him, the five-hundred-year old wizard with the face of a teenage boy. "You can't blame yourself," I said hoarsely. "They tricked you, too."

He turned his gaze out the east-facing window—the sun had emerged but was still low and orange in the morning sky. " I am still one of the Founders' Guild," he sighed. "And I cannot disown them, even if their behavior disgusts me."

"You aren't like them at all," I said so softly that I had to question if I really intended it for him or myself. He wasn't like them, at least not like the horrible side of them I'd just had to witness. China was kind and compassionate; I wondered if that came from spending his life with those of us destined to die.

"Here," China said, offering me his hand as if to reinforce the complimentary thoughts I'd just had about him. "You'll make yourself ache if you stay slumped on the floor. Come lay on the bed and I will fix you some chamomile tea."

I sniffed and nodded, let him help me up and shepherd me to his bed, and curled up in the indentation that had been left by Su-san's body while China hung an iron kettle over his fireplace and lit the flames below it. The pillow still smelled like Su-san's hair and it ripped my heart in half all over again.

"I have to save him," I said, my voice muffled by the pillow as I hugged it against my face to inhale every last bit of scent. "There has to be a way. There just has to."

I felt the mattress sink beside me and propped myself up. Despite having come to sit with me, China's eyes were once again aimed out the window and across the lake. He wore the most wistful expression I had ever seen on him and I knew something significant was going on in his head. "I have come to believe that there is a way to remove the spirit of Ancient Scandinavia, Torvald, from Sweden's body without destroying Sweden's soul. It is the only way. And it will not be easy."

Immediately, I bolted upright. "I'll do it! Whatever it is, I'll do it! I don't care how hard it is! What… what is it?"

He looked at me with eyes so dark and serious it made me shiver. "The only safe way to rid Sweden of Torvald's spirit is to get him to pass on to the afterlife. And the only way to do that is to break the spell on the Seven Founders."

The immense weight of what he'd said took a moment to settle on my chest and when it did I had to gulp in air alleviate the pressure. "Break the spell? But wouldn't that mean… you and the other Founders…"

"Yes," China said. "We will die."

To be continued…


	12. Chapter 11

Free Talk: New chapter! I really hope everyone enjoys it, It takes the story in an interesting direction and sets things up for... Well, I will just let you read for yourself. Thank you so much to all the people who have reviewed and put this story on their alerts and/or favorites lists. I have said it before and will keep on saying it, the support this story has gotten means so very much to me. I hope you will tell me what you think of this new chapter as well. Thank you!

**Outcast**  
By Angelsaurus

Chapter 11

My insides knotted. "The only way to save Su-san's life will mean taking six others?" I stared at China pleadingly as I asked, trying to will him with my eyes to offer up an alternative solution.

He closed his eyes for a moment and stroked his chin in that way I always took to indicate deep thought. Then he opened his eyes and said, "I think the water must be hot enough by now. Let me go and get that tea for you." And he was up and on his way to the fireplace before I could blink.

The knot in my stomach jerked abruptly. Was he being intentionally evasive? Why did he choose now of all times to act strange?

I clutched the edge of the bed like a little bird on a high ledge of a skyscraper while China prepared the tea. It was probably just because I was already very tense that his pace seemed frustratingly slow. But I kept my mouth shut; he had thirty times my life experience and far more wisdom. And patience was supposedly a virtue.

China brought me my tea in a ceramic cup that was hand glazed in a shade of blue almost as dark as Torvald's eyes. "So," he said, sitting back down next to me. "Out of curiosity, why did you say six other lives instead of seven?"

I had my head bowed over my cup, watching the ripples my breath created on the surface of the steaming liquid, but his question made me look up at once. I thought the answer would have been obvious. "Well," I said. "I didn't count Torvald because he, you know, is supposed to be dead already."

"I see," China said, nodding his head. "But then, aren't all seven of us supposed to be dead already? Five hundred years is not exactly a natural lifespan for a human being. And we've only managed that by living very isolated and sheltered lives."

"I guess you have a point," I said, offering the words tentatively. China's calm justification of his own demise unsettled me much more than if he were acting upset. "But is it really my place to end your lives?"

The rationalizing resumed. "If you think of it as ending our lives you will never be able to save young Sweden," he said, and though the words were gentle, they squeezed my heart like a giant fist.

I _had_ to save Su-san; that was not up for debate. "And you're sure there is no other way?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I am afraid not, Finland. You heard what Torvald said down there. Any attempt at exorcism will be met with violent retaliation against Sweden, a threat that I'm quite certain he is capable of following through on."

There was no question in my mind that Torvald could and _would_ harm Su-san if he felt in any way threatened; his mouse in a cage metaphor was enough to convince me of that. I felt the muscles of my face tighten in anxiety and my eyes dropped back down to my cup, but China's hand on my jaw guided them back up to meet his.

"I know that there is nothing I can say that will end the inner turmoil you are feeling," he said. "But perhaps you can obtain a small bit of relief by considering that the spell is something unnatural. It has given us a lifespan that is unnatural. And it has caused the person that you care about most to fall into an unnatural state of possession. Therefore, any action that would undo the spell would be only natural."

This was one step beyond rationalization. The way China explained it made it almost sound like he _wanted_ to die. Of course, he may have actually been swimming in fear on the inside but, thanks to centuries spent mastering the art of disguise, was able to conceal it perfectly. He must have known that I wouldn't be able to live if I let Su-san die. Maybe he was trying to make it easier for me.

"So, uh, do you have any idea how to actually break the spell?" I asked. It gave me an odd feeling of déjà vu—replace the word "spell" with "curse" and this was almost the exact conversation I'd had with China the morning after the Denmark disaster.

"I believe I do," he said, and my eyes widened in surprise—I definitely wasn't expecting that. China gave his chin a stroke and said, "I think that you and I should go for a walk and I will explain it to you. After you've finished your tea, of course. What do you say?"

"Yes please," I said, bobbing my head. Then I gulped down the tea so quickly I scalded my tongue.

As circumstances had already led me to discover, without classes to get up for, the halls of St. Hetalia were virtually deserted this early in the morning. But we didn't linger inside for too long. China trod a direct path through the halls and out the main doors of the school and I kept pace at his side, patiently waiting for him to speak first. He stopped out on the stone terrace, in front of the Foundation Stone, and I stopped too. This was an intentional destination.

"Lovely vista, don't you think?" he said, casting his eyes out on the sparkling lake.

"Um, yeah," I said.

There was no denying the beauty of the scenery here. The glowing sunrise filled the valley like a bowl, painting the water brilliant tangerine and the rocky cliffs a luminous shade of peach. Not for the first time, I found myself wondering where on Earth St. Hetalia was, or if it existed in another world entirely, a fantasy space, like Narnia.

"Funny how little it has changed over the years," China continued to muse—to me or to himself, I couldn't tell. "The trees have grown up, but otherwise it looks the same as it did that day when the seven of us laid down this stone and inadvertently cast a spell over ourselves."

Suddenly, this view of the lake with the Foundation Stone in the foreground looked very familiar, and not just in the sense that I'd walked casually past it many times during my daily travels. I had looked right at it, seen it framed in gold above the fireplace in the Student Council room, albeit rendered in oil paint. What I had taken as the sea was really this lake, and what I had taken as an altar was the Foundation Stone. And I'd thought _"The Founding of St. Hetalya"_ was an allegorical painting.

"So, the Foundation Stone is the source of the spell?" I asked. "Is it made out of some sort of magical mineral?" A few weeks ago I would have felt ridiculous asking such a question, but now it seemed perfectly logical.

China put on a little smile. "Nope, just regular old marble. The spell came into effect when we carved our mark on it." His fingers glided over the top plane of the stone where the school's official crest, the lion and the eagle, stood out in sharp relief.

Upon my first arrival at the steps of St. Hetalia, I had stood in front of the Foundation Stone and China had told me its historical significance. I hadn't taken the time to stop and look at it again since and never would have fathomed that it was anything more than a school landmark. Now, as I reread the quote engraved into the marble, the hairs on my arms pricked up.

_"We laid this Foundation Stone so that our dream might live forever, so that we might live forever."_

"When you carved these words they became true," I said in a voice as thin as a ghost.

"Set in stone, so to speak," China said, and there was a trace of marvel tucked into his words, even centuries after the magic happened. "That line was the final detail to be added to the Stone. When it was done I could feel it in my very marrow that I was changed forever. The others felt it too. All of our hopes and dreams took shape in this block of marble."

A drawn-out moment of quiet followed—the only sound being early morning birdsong I hadn't noticed until now—and I just watched China tracing the chiseled words with his fingertips. The whole time I wondered what images were going through his ancient head.

He suddenly turned and looked at me. "You have figured out what it is you must do, right Finland?"

"I…" Is that what I was supposed to be thinking about? I'd just been waiting for him to tell me outright when he was done meditating. Now I had to come up with a response on the spot. "Well, I would guess that if the Foundation Stone is the source of the spell, the way to end it would be to destroy the Foundation Stone. But that's…" I could tell there was a flaw in my thinking but I couldn't quite find the words for what it was.

"Yes?" China asked with a curious tilt of his head, and it came to me.

"It's way too easy," I said. "You told me that ending the spell was the only way to free Sweden and that it wouldn't be easy. With the right tools, pulverizing a huge rock may still be time-consuming, but it's not difficult."

"Ah yes," China said, lifting his chin the way a proud tutor would after his pupil provided a correct answer. "The difficulty lies in obtaining the _tools_." He pronounced the last word in a way that gave the distinct impression that these were not pickaxes and sledgehammers he was talking about.

I had no choice but to ask, "What sort of _tools_ do I need?" I inflected "tools" just as he had.

"Well, before the Stone can be destroyed it must first be restored to its original state," he said, academic and precise. "You see, when we Founders recognized the Stone as the origin of our ageless state, we knew we had to protect it. So we removed a part of the Foundation Stone and entrusted it to safe hands."

My eyes automatically started to scan the block of marble for any indication of a carved out portion. I even walked a full circuit around it to inspect it from every angle. Nothing—it was one solid cube.

"It's nothing that big and obvious," China said. Then he sank his right hand into the pocket of his silk jacket and pulled out a closed fist. It opened like a flower in front of my eyes and centered on his palm was his Student Council pin.

"You mean the Golden Arrows were originally part of the Foundation Stone?" I said.

He gave a nod. "Indeed they were. Go ahead and check the fit, Finland. I think you know where it goes."

I took the pin from his hand. Not once had it occurred to me that the Golden Arrow pins matched the size and shape of the deeply incised arrows that the eagle in the school crest held in its talons, but when I pushed it into place it fit like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle. Except, of course, it wasn't the last piece. There were seven slots for seven arrows. A sick feeling washed over me.

"I'm guessing that the other members of the Student Council are not going to be too keen on giving up their arrows," I said, trying to be optimistic but sounding more anxious than anything else. "Since they are getting some _enhancements_ from them."

"They won't easily be convinced to part with such precious objects," China said, and though I was pretty sure he was incapable of looking distressed, his face took on a stiffer, more severe look than he typically sported. "But the real challenge is going to be procuring the rest of these." Timed perfectly with the last word of his sentence, he produced from his left pocket a pin made of clear rock crystal in the glittering shape of a five-pointed star.

Dread bubbled in my belly, anticipation of the explanation I could already feel coming but didn't want to acknowledge. St. Hetalia had two sacred institutions and seven emblems for each.

"I believe you have already figured out who has the other six stars?" China said.

I swallowed and it felt like trying to force giant glob of glue down my throat; I was amazed my voice could still come out afterwards. "How in the world am I going to get the remaining stars from the Founders? I get the feeling that asking politely isn't going to cut it. Giving up those stars means giving up their lives. I can't… I can't…" The rest of words wouldn't come.

"We have always been very protective of the Stars," China said.

The glue started to rise back up in my throat. Somehow I had put it out of my mind that to China the Founders were "we," not "they." Because he was a fellow student and my ally, it was easy to forget for a moment that China was a member of the Founders' Guild and would die when the spell was broken. When I was reminded of the horrible facts, it felt like a serrated knife was being slowly dragged out of my belly. I didn't want anyone to die.

China's hand reached out and touched my shoulder. "It won't be easy," he reiterated. "But I believe you can do this, Finland. And you won't have to do it alone. You will have help."

"W-why?" I stuttered out. My eyes were stinging at the edges and it took most of my concentration to stave off more embarrassing tears. "Why did you tell me all this? Why are you helping me kill you?"

"Finland," he said in a soothing tone. "Aiding you throughout this ordeal I have come to consider you a precious friend. I won't abandon you or your mission. Young Sweden needs to be freed from Torvald. You love him. And, if love is not worthy of sacrifice then what is?"

"I do love him," I said and it made the center of my chest throb in a wonderful way. "I love Su-san so much. I can't live without him. China, have you been in love before?"

For just a tiny fraction of a second he looked surprised by the question then his face settled into a reflective half-smile. "Far too many times." He composed himself back into a coolly serious state. "Now, why don't you go take a shower and change into fresh clothes and we will meet in the Student Council room in one hour. We will fill in the other Student Council members and devise a plan together."

"Okay," I said, my voice a soft croak. I wasn't sure if the time alone would settle the surplus of worries tumbling around inside my head or agitate them further, but I did want to get clean. I could feel a grimy film of dried sweat and tears coating my skin and found it far from pleasant.

After taking the first few steps back to the school, just before slipping in through the main doors, I paused to look back one last time at China. He was still planted in the same spot, still looking out over the lake and enjoying the view from the school he and his friends had built together.

…

It was my first time back in the dorm room since before Torvald reared his murderous head on the cliff. Su-san's bed was neatly made, just how he always left it after he finished using it—whereas I chose to take advantage of being away from home and found a swirled nest of sheets atop my bed. He never chided me for it, never called me a slob. He said it was cute.

His current reading material was set on the bedside table, bookmarked and waiting for his return. It was a mystery novel this time, but he seemed to enjoy just about every genre judging from the small library he kept stacked at the foot of his bed. He'd told me I could borrow any of them whenever I wanted. What was his was mine.

I felt that tug on my heart again, a painful pull downwards towards the subterranean palace where Su-san was being held prisoner. I saw his favorite pair of pajamas folded on top of his dresser and the pull tautened. I had to get into the shower, away from all these reminders of him, before it became unbearable.

Washing became a means of distraction. I thought about each body part, each toe and finger, as a soaped it up and rinsed it off individually. But no amount of extra effort could make showering so complex that it kept my brain completely off of Su-san and China, Arrows and Stars. Was restoring, and then destroying the Foundation Stone really going to end the spell? Was ending the spell really going to save Su-san?

_No_, I thought, shaking my head under the hot spray of water. _I can't doubt China. He wouldn't go to such lengths for me if he weren't sure._

With renewed determination, I turned off the spigot and wrapped a towel around myself as I stepped out of the shower. Then I dressed myself in khaki slacks and a red t-shirt and left for the Student Council room. Better to be early than late. It was time to get right down to the business of saving Su-san.

But the grit I had mustered while getting clean started to slowly leak when I hit the hallway and passed a familiar set of cobalt eyes. He didn't say anything, as his punishment dictated, but his gaze lingered on me just long enough to make me feel vulnerable. I hadn't even been able to fight him off, an ordinary teenage boy out for misguided revenge. What were my real chances of being able to get those Stars from the Founders?

I didn't want to keep depending on China, but I couldn't help hoping that he already had an ingenious plan in mind.

There wasn't a trace of surprise on his face when it appeared in the gape of the Student Council room door to welcome me twenty minutes ahead of schedule. He acted as if I had arrived right on time.

"Ah, Finland," he greeted. "The shower did you good, I think. You look quite refreshed. Come on in, everyone is already here."

I followed him in through the red curtains, into the great big room full of bookshelves and old weapons. The mingled sounds of several different conversations drifted to me from the semi-circle of high-backed leather chairs. I could only separate out snatches of dialogue—I heard England's unmistakable haughty accent calling America an imbecile for comparing Sherlock Holmes to someone named Magnum P.I.—but everyone's tone was cheerful. It was unlikely that China had given them the heads up that I was going to be asking them to donate their precious pins to save a guy they barely knew.

When China and I stepped in front of the unlit dragon fireplace, the talking wound down and we had seven pairs of eyes on us, giving their full attention.

"Finland is here!" Italy chirped from his post at Germany's side. "Does that mean you're going to tell us what is going on now, China?"

France was sitting languidly with one arm propping up his head on the arm of chair, fingers laced into his wavy yellow hair. "Ze curiosity az been eeting me like a well-ripened brie," he said, though he didn't actually seem all that impatient. "Zis is about your friend Sweden, no? Russia said zat 'e collapsed on ze cliff last night."

"Yes," I said, not quite up to full courage level. "I… I need you guys' help to save him. You see it's…" And I hit my first snag. I wasn't sure how much I should tell them. And where should I even start. "Su-san… er, Sweden, that is… He's, uh, he's possessed. Everyone thought he was cursed, but he's not. Just possessed, with the spirit of a… well, I guess he's a serial killer, but I don't think he's a psychopath. He just…"

I stopped and the room was so absolutely quiet I would have been able to hear a pin hit the floor on the opposite side. My explanation had come out far more fast and choppy than I'd hoped, but the message appeared to have reached my audience.

"Possessed?" Italy squeaked, clinging to Germany's arm.

"Serial killer?" Germany grunted, lips curled down in apprehension.

Japan's face was pursed in thought, the nature of which I couldn't decipher, and France's head had perked up in a genuine display of interest. Russia was scratching the corner of his square jaw thoughtfully—aligning my story with his brief eyewitness account, maybe—and England had his fingers tented in his lap. By far, the strangest reaction came from America, who pumped his fists in front of him, his eyes saucer-wide and glazed with excitement.

"So what's your need?" he asked, swinging his fists through the air in front of him as if boxing an invisible foe. "Should I use some of my Rocky Balboa moves and knock that killer out of him?"

"N-no!" I stammered. "That really won't be necessary. The last thing I want is for Sweden to get hurt. All I need from you guys are your Student Council pins, the Golden Arrows."

A combined murmur of discontentment rose from ring of boys around me. "The Golden Arrow pins are the exclusive property of the Student Council members," England said as stiffly as if he were reciting it from the school charter. "They cannot be loaned out."

The others nodded fervently and uttered words of agreement and I felt a horrible plunging sensation in my belly. If the idea of a loan didn't sit well with them, what I was going to suggest next might cause a riot. But for Su-san's sake, I had no choice.

"This wouldn't exactly be a temporary arrangement," I said in my humblest voice. "You see… you wouldn't be getting the pins back."

This time the response was a near roar of dissent.

"Why should we give them to you?" Russia asked in his low, rumbling voice. "How do we know they're really needed to save your friend?"

"Yeah, where's your proof?" said America. "I dunno about the others, but I'm going to need more than just your word before I give up the thing that sets me apart from the rest of the student body."

I felt my palms growing sweaty. I had no proof, of course. In desperation, my eyes sought China's for support. He smiled at me

"Would my word be more convincing?" he said to everyone in the room, and they all showed him the utmost respect, falling still and silent in their chairs. "I have researched this matter thoroughly and I can assure you that the destruction of our pins is an imperative if Sweden is to be freed from his possession."

"Please excuse my ignorance," Japan said, polite as always. "But what do the pins have to do with Sweden being possessed?" A valid question; from the curious expressions all around, I could tell that everyone was wondering the same thing.

Once again, China took it upon himself to answer and I felt a twinge of guilt that he was doing all the talking when this was my crusade. "You all know that the Golden Arrows contain magical properties," he said. "And the reason for this is that our pins were originally part of a monument that is the source of a powerful spell. It is this spell that is preventing the spirit inside Sweden from moving on to the afterlife."

"So I have to destroy the monument and all its components," I piped in, my small contribution. "I wouldn't ask this of you all if there was any other way."

Looks of deliberation were exchanged all around as the Council members wordlessly communicated their decisions. "Alright then," America sighed, acting as spokesman for the group. "If a St. Hetalia student's life is at stake, of course the Student Council will come through." His resigned expression blossomed into a smile. "This makes us the heroes, right?"

"Definitely," I said, suddenly so full of gratitude that I feared I might cry tears of joy. "You are all wonderful heroes. I can't thank you enough. After I obtain the other pieces and am able to rescue Su-san, I am sure he will thank you as well."

America had already begun to undo his pin—fumbling a bit with the closure—but he stopped and looked up with furrowed brow. "Wait, other pieces? You mean the Golden Arrows aren't the only thing you need?"

I squirmed, shifting my wait between my two legs and twisting the hem of my t-shirt in my damp hands. It had been my intention to only share as little as needed to convince them to part with the pins—since the whole story included secrets that weren't really mine to reveal—but how could I deny information to the people who had just volunteered their priceless treasures for the sake of the person I loved?

"Well, there are seven Crystal Stars, too," I said. "In addition to the Golden Arrows. They belong to the Founders' Guild and I have to destroy them as well."

"Oy," America said, making a sort of glad-I'm-not-in-your-shoes face. "Asking favors of the grand high muckety-mucks? How're you gonna pull that one off?"

"I haven't figured that part out yet," I said, wilting sheepishly at the reminder.

"He is going to have to challenge them." China's voice came out so authoritative and clear that it almost sounded like a mandate straight from God. I looked over at him with unquestioning trust and he elaborated for me. "As the one person here who really knows the Founders' Guild, I can say that the members do not grant favors for nothing, but they are very competitive and love to show off. If Finland challenges them to a competition, they will accept, and if he wins, they will surrender the Crystal Stars."

He had worded it in a way that didn't reveal his dual membership to the others and I wondered if he was planning on ever revealing it to them. It was his choice to make.

"But how can one of me win against all of them?" I asked him.

China got that glimmer of wisdom in his eyes when he smiled at me. "That is the other reason I've asked my fellow members of the Student Council here today."

A swift chorus of "What?" swept through the seats and I almost joined in. So this was China's plan; win the Crystal Stars fair and square in a showdown between the Student Council and the Founders Guild—of course, this begged the question of which side China himself was going to compete on. Ordinarily, I would fervently oppose putting anyone beside myself in potential danger. But Su-san's life was at stake and I knew I needed help.

"Would you guys really be willing to help me out?" I asked, hopeful but humble.

"Count me in," America said through an excited grin. "I cannot ignore the call of heroism!"

"I'm in, too," said Germany. "It is the duty of the Council to act in the best interest of every student."

As soon as he said this, Italy was agreeing ardently. "I'm not a real member, but I'll help in any way I can!" he chirped.

"Eet iz razer romantic, no?" France said, sweeping back his long hair. "I will help as well."

"Consider me at your service," said Japan.

"The strong must not waste their gift," said Russia.

I felt an incredible warmth fill my chest like liquid sunshine. These boys who barely knew me, who didn't really know Su-san at all, had agreed not only to give up their pins for him but also to support me in challenging the Founders' Guild. Well, most of them had. There was still one holdout.

England's arms were crossed over his chest and his face sported a severe scowl beneath seriously scrunched, bushy eyebrows. He definitely did not exude cooperation.

I swallowed nervously and asked with trepidation, "So, England, will you be joining us, too?"

"Absolutely not!" he said, standing in a huff and immediately rounding on the others. "And I am aghast that the lot of you are so quick to volunteer. Are you all completely daft? This is the Founders' Guild we are talking about! The same people who selected us for admission to St. Hetalia and appointed us to the Student Council! If we all go barging into their office asking for a showdown over crystal stars, expulsion is the very least we can expect. And then what good will we be to Sweden or anyone else?"

His argument had the impact of a grand piano falling on top of the other Student Council members, knocking all the enthusiasm out of them, at least for the moment. Their suddenly wary eyes sent a cold shudder through my nervous system.

"But China said that they would accept a challenge from me," I said. "As Historian, he knows these people better than anyone else." Boy was that an understatement. "Don't you believe him?"

England's lips pursed. "I want to believe him," he said. "I really do. But even if he is right, we have no idea what kind of challenge the Founders' Guild might suggest. For all we know, they might opt to duel with pistols or play Russian roulette. It just doesn't seem worth the risk."

"But…" Emotion caught in my throat and strained my voice. I was torn; I couldn't force this on him or anyone else, but I knew that I needed help. "What if it was to help somebody that _you_ love, England?" I asked. "What if it was for the President?"

Everyone looked at me, and at England, who had turned his face away sulkily. "What the devil are you implying?" he said. But despite his haughty denial, his cheeks were stained a deep pink.

I took a step closer to him and spoke in a softer voice meant only for him. "I'm not implying anything. I'm just asking you to imagine that Alfred was possessed and in danger of disappearing forever. Wouldn't you think it was worth the risk for him? Wouldn't you hope and pray that other people would think it was worth the risk, too?"

He fell silent, his red face still twisted defiantly to the side. Then, slowly, his shoulders slackened and he turned towards me—still avoiding eye contact—and sighed. "Alright then. You've made your point. I'm in. So, how exactly are we going to extend this challenge to them? Write a letter? Ring them up on the telephone?"

That's right. The Student Council didn't know how close the Founders Guild really was.

"I think we should go see them in person," China said. "And I think we should go now. We don't have time to spare."

"We're leaving the school?" Italy asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Not quite," said China. "Just follow Finland and me."

I felt like raw electricity was flowing through my arteries and collecting on my skin as I walked the halls at China's side. I was wired—excited and nervous at once. The footfalls of the other Student Council members behind us were mixed with the occasional hushed bit of conversation, but, surprisingly, not one of them asked outright where we were headed.

"Hey, isn't this your room?" America asked of China when we reached his bedroom door. "Don't tell me you've been hiding the Founders' Guild under your bed all this time?"

It was obviously a joke, and China chuckled as he turned the knob and pushed the door open. "Of course not," he said. "They live under the fireplace." His response was actually not a joke, but only I knew that.

Even on the second visit, the inside of China's room still made me do a three hundred-sixty degree turn to take it all in. The others were first-timers, I could tell from their awed comments.

"Your room is so awesome!" Italy said. "It's like a museum, or a college professor's office."

"Jeez Louise! How'd you bring all this stuff here with you?" America asked, baffled.

China remained calm. "It will all make sense in time. Now, follow me." He went over to his terracotta warrior and pushed down the arm and the floor opened up with a groan. Then, without pausing to take questions, which I am sure he knew the others must have, he descended into the darkness. I followed first behind him and the rest followed me.

The spiraling staircase was only wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side, and even that was a tight fit. So we descended in single file. Italy was close behind me, I could tell when he spoke.

"Hey Finland?" he asked. "That thing that you asked England back in the Student Council room, does it mean that he's in love with the President?"

"Well…" I said sheepishly. "That's not really something I can…"

"Indeed eet iz ze sweet beat of young love," France interjected. "Eengland could not hide his ardor any longer."

Italy seemed delighted by the response and started singing, "England loves America! England loves America!"

"Germany, would you shut the boy up?" England hissed from further back, and Germany quickly complied.

"Settle down, Italy," he said, and Italy obeyed without objection.

And the rest of the descent was quiet. In fact, nobody said another word until we passed through the bronze doors and into the columned atrium.

"Wow, I feel just like Howard Carter upon opening the tomb of Tutankhamen," said England.

"And I feel like Indiana Jones in the Temple of Doom," said America. "Say, do you think the Founders' Guild is going to make us eat monkey brains?"

England just groaned in response.

My heartbeat was growing faster and louder with each step that I took; it could feel that I was getting closer to Su-san. I longed to see him so badly, even though I knew it would be Torvald looking out coldly through his eyes, speaking with his mouth. Su-san was still in their somewhere. Like me, he wasn't one to give up so easily.

We passed into the interrogation room and my blood ran ice-cold. They were waiting for us. The Founders' Guild, still clad in the costumes of their most admired civilizations, were perched on their thrones and eyeing us as if they had been expecting us. Maybe they had been.

One pair of eyes was locked on to me alone. Su-san—or rather, Torvald, as the dark hue of his eyes made clear who was in control—stared at my hungrily, unaided by glasses. Besides just his specs, Torvald had also ditched Su-san's contemporary clothing in favor of a reddish-brown tunic, buckskin trousers, and fur boots. He looked like a true wild man of the North.

Even after I wrenched my face away from him, I could feel his burning gaze on the skin my cheek.

How did they know that we were coming? My eyes shot to China, begging for an answer, but he didn't provide one. Not directly, at least. He stepped forward, stood before his fellow Founders and addressed them.

"As promised, I have delivered the St. Hetalia Student Council and they are prepared for a contest between our two groups."

Around me, the other Student Council members were stunned into silence—not even whispers were exchanged. They had more to be shocked over than I did. This was their first time experiencing the St. Hetalia underground, their first time seeing the Founders' Guild and, presumably, recognizing them from the painting as I had. All of us had to deal with the blow that we had apparently been set up.

"What do you mean, 'as promised?'" I asked, trembling. "I thought _we_ were the ones who had come to challenge _them_."

China looked at me serenely. "It isn't a matter of one side challenging the other, but of both agreeing, with equal desire, to meet in competition." Then he climbed the steps up onto the platform and took his seat beneath the letter Y.

"Alright, I give up trying to figure this out on my own," England said, dropping his arms to his sides in exasperation. "Will somebody tell me what the bloody hell is going on here? Who are these people? What are they doing living beneath the school? Why is Sweden with them? And why is China acting like he's one of them?"

"And why are they dressed up like the founders of the school?" America added, throwing an arm over England's shoulder, which was welcomed with a frown.

A low rumble of other voices, things like "Yeah," and "Tell us," followed. China restored order the same way he did in the cafeteria, by lifting a hand.

"I know you have questions," he said. "These ones you have asked, and others you have not. And I will attempt to answer them as best as I can. These ladies and gentlemen here are the Founders' Guild. They have always lived beneath St. Hetalia. The spirit possessing Sweden is one of them, as am I." He stated it all so matter-of-factly. But what of America's question, which had the most unbelievable answer of all? After a pause, China looked at me and said, "Finland, do you want to field that last one?"

Truthfully, I didn't, and I didn't understand why he was putting me on the spot like this. But I couldn't protest. I turned around to face the Student Council and took a deep breath. "The Founders' Guild, including China, and the guy whose spirit has possessed Sweden are the original Founders of St. Hetalia." There, I'd said it.

The response from the Student Council was a buzz of bewilderment.

"Impossible," Germany grunted.

"There iz no way zese beautiful and youthful ladies are aged in their hundreds," said France.

"Quite right," said England. "The idea of human beings living that long is patently absurd."

"As absurd as you conjuring up a magic circle?" I asked. "Or Russia bending an axe head with his only his hands?" That quieted things down.

"The truth will settle slowly," China said. "But now let us get down to business. We are all here to arrange a contest, a showdown if you will, between the Founders' Guild and the Student Council. The victorious side will be granted ownership of the seven Golden Arrows and the seven Crystal Stars."

"Wait," said America. "You mean if we lose we have to give our pins to you guys?"

"That's correct, my boy," Alessandro said in his booming voice. "The Arrows will be returned to us, their creators and rightful owners, and the Student Council will be dissolved."

"But why do _you_ want the Arrows?" I asked him. I knew my reason, but hadn't a clue of theirs.

Alessandro shifted in his seat, causing his armor to rattle slightly, and resettled in a less relaxed, more commanding pose. "Correcting a mistake," he said. "Dividing school authority between the Founders' Guild and the Student Council was perhaps the worst blunder we have ever made. Just look at what has happened since; the ladies have been banished to the far side of the lake and sexual misconduct is still rampant at both locations."

"So it's about segregating the genders?" I asked.

"It is about us losing absolute control," he said, making a tight fist in front of him. "And now that all seven of us are together again, we can put things right again."

Putting things right had been China's justification for me breaking the spell. Was it just a veiled reference to his true intent? And yet I somehow knew that he had been telling me the truth about how to break the spell. I couldn't explain why, but I knew.

"Here is how I propose we do this," Alessandro continued. "The members of Student Council will compete against the members of the Founders' Guild in seven one-on-one events and the first side to four wins gets it all."

"What sort of events?" Germany asked gruffly.

China answered. "They will be events that test those abilities for which you were chosen to be on the Student Council—your skill with data, Russia's strength, Japan's discipline, France's refined senses, America's courage, and England's magic."

"But that's only six," said America. "The teams are uneven. That's not fair!"

"Of course," China said. "Since I will be competing with the Founders' Guild, that leaves your side one man short."

"I'll do it!" Italy chimed in, and Germany immediately pulled him against his side.

"Absolutely not," he said. "It could be dangerous."

"But…" Italy squeaked.

"I have already chosen my replacement," China said before Italy could finish his thought. Then he looked at me. "Check your pocket, Finland."

I knew it would come to this. Even if his loyalty was ultimately to the Founders' Guild, China wouldn't let me miss the chance to fight for Su-san. When I reached down into the pocket of my pants, my fingers touched the distinctive shape of a Golden Arrow pin. I curled my hand around it. "I'll do it," I said.

"And the rest of you," said China. "Are you still in?"

"Fuck yeah!" America whooped. "I refuse to lose! I am in it to win it!"

"Eh, likewise," England said, as dry as ever.

"We gave Finland our word and we will not go back on it," Japan said, and all the others agreed enthusiastically. The warm feeling from before flooded my chest again.

Alessandro grinned. "Excellent! If everyone is in agreement, we will meet back here in three days, at eight in the morning, for the contest. The matches will be as follows: Japan will face Germania, Germany will face Ancient Egypt, France will face Ancient Greece, America will be up against me, England will take on the Ancient Celtic Isles, and Russia will battle Ancient Scandinavia. In the unlikely event of a tie, Finland will compete against China. Winner takes it all, Stars and Arrows."

"And Astrid." The sound of Torvald's adamant voice drew all eyes to him, but once again, his gaze was meant only for me. "If we win, I get full custody of my reborn Astrid."

The Student Council members muttered in confusion around me. I heard China say, "That wasn't a part of the deal." But I didn't turn to look him, or anyone else. My eyes remained locked on Torvald's, diving into their dark blue depths in search of Su-san, Berwald Oxenstierna.

"Alright," I said, staring still. That warmth in my chest had become a red-hot conflagration. "I'll agree to that term, because we aren't going to lose. I know you're in there, Berwald, and I know you can hear. Just hang in there. In three days I am going to set you free. And that's a promise."

To be continued…


	13. Chapter 12

Free Talk: Finally. This one took me a long time, and for that I apologize. I've got real life troubles, other hobbies, and I'm afraid I just can't keep up the same pace I had at the beginning. But do not worry about this story being abandoned. I am still working hard, just not as fast. So I hope people will continue to follow it. I also really hope this chapter will be good enough that those who've been following will find it was worth the wait. Thank you so very much for all the words of support and encouragement. They make me feel so happy. Please tell me what you think of the new chapter, even if you just want to berate me for taking so long.

**Outcast**  
By Angelsaurus

Chapter 12

_The snow is like quicksand; the more I struggle to pull myself out, the deeper I sink in. It's powder snow, the kind that's so cold it doesn't pack except around my body, where my heat melts it enough to soak through my clothes and sheath me in sub-zero moisture. The wind chill makes it feel like acid chewing away the surface of my skin. _

_But the pain starts to fade. Once the acid has digested my outermost layer, the exposed nerves are too cold to bother with their jobs and I'm left covered by a shroud of numbness. It's better than the burning cold, but without sensation my limbs are dead weight. There is no hope of dislodging myself and I have suddenly lost the desire to even try. I'm not just numb, but suddenly very sleepy, and since the cold is no longer cutting me, the sanest thing to do seems like a nap. I'll curl into a ball beneath the snow, the way sled dogs do. They sleep in the snow all the time and aren't hurt by it._

_My eyes close and I hug my knees against my chest. Just a quick nap will give me the energy to find my way back home. Right now I 'm so tired that even the violent shivering of my body—bizarre because I don't actually feel cold—won't keep it from falling asleep._

"_Don't fall asleep."_

_But that might. The voice sounds like a child but speaks like an adult. I force my eyelids back open and it feels like there are icicles in my lashes. In front of me is a face, illuminated by a lantern in the child's gloved hand, but the thickly swirling snow is obscuring it so that all I can make out are two bright blue-green eyes._

"_If y' fall asleep 'n th' snow y'll nev'r wake up," he says. Then he extends his free hand to me and I somehow make my unfeeling and clumsy arm reach out to take it. He pulls me up out of my snow hole and holds me steady. He's wearing snowshoes. I'm wobbling like a newborn baby deer._

_"Th-thank you," I stutter out weakly. When I look at his face again from this closer vantage point it causes an involuntary flinch of fear. His face has a frightening quality to it, something about how the shadow of his brow falls on his cheeks. But he is acting so kindly by helping me, a complete stranger._

_The boy doesn't act offended by my little cringe, just puts an arm around my back and supports my feeble body while we slowly trudge. "There's a cave near here," he says. "We can g't out a th' wind 't least 'nd start a fire."_

_I can barely even nod. My face falls against his shoulder and I can smell that his coat is made of wool. For reasons I can't explain—perhaps it is hypothermia-induced delirium—I feel absolutely safe with this boy. I close my eyes, just to rest them for a few minutes, and when they open again there is a fire crackling, warm and orange, in front of them. The mystery boy must have carried me while I was asleep to this cave. My head is resting on his knee now and his wool coat is draped over me like a blanket._

"_You… you saved me," I softly croak as I look up at his stoic face. "I don't even know your name. Mine… mine's Tino."_

_His face doesn't seem scary at all to me now. In fact, he looks downright angelic, with pink cheeks and hair so pale that I can barely tell it from the white halo of rabbit fur lining the underside of his cap. Then his handsome lips slide apart to answer my question. "M' name is…"_

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

The alarm shrieked and I sprang up from my bed like a trebuchet, mouth gasping out a name. "Su-san!" I continued to pant as one hand groped for the button that would shut up the beeping and the other held my forehead as if that would keep the dream from slipping away.

There was no mistaking that the boy in my dream was Su-san. He was so consuming my thoughts now that he had infiltrated my standard blizzard dream, come to rescue me from my recurring nightmare like the valiant knight of my subconscious. But in reality our roles were reversed; I was the one who was coming to rescue him. Today.

The clock on my bedside table displayed 6:30 in glowing green numbers. The showdown was to begin in a mere hour and a half. I was amazed I'd been able to get any sleep at all with how anxious I'd been and the only explanation I could think of was that my previous two nights of insomnia had left my body so starving for sleep that no amount of worry could keep it up. Now I was wide-awake again, and all the worries were still there, pressing their full weight on me.

This whole setup was extremely ridiculous. The Founders' Guild were the ones who got to choose the events of the competition—undoubtedly challenges that played to their own strengths as much as to the Student Council's—and their prior knowledge meant they would be much more prepared than our side. And we would be battling it out on their turf. Unfair. They held all the cards. But ours was the desperate side, so we had no choice but to play by their rules and hope that they had a sense of honor and fair play.

I couldn't fathom what sort of event I might have to compete against China in. If it was something that called upon his own greatest strength, his wisdom, I didn't stand a chance. How could I beat a guy who has been accumulating knowledge for five hundred years at a battle of wits? I wasn't sure I had _any_ special talents to rely on—I certainly didn't feel any sort of enhancements since receiving the Golden Arrow. All I could do was hope and pray that it didn't come down to me, that the other members of the Student Council would win enough matches that the competition wouldn't be mine to lose.

But I was dreading Torvald's battle even more than my own. Since his opponent was Russia, it was a given that it would be a feat of strength, but I couldn't muster enough optimism to imagine they'd just be lifting barbells. It was going to be a fight in the most literal, brutal sense of the word; I could sense it like a storm brewing.

I didn't have time to spare worrying in bed, though. I'd have to move it to the shower. My bare feet swung off the side of the mattress and touched the cool hardwood floor. As I padded towards the bathroom with a clean towel slung over my shoulder, I paused for just a second to look longingly at Su-san's bed, minus Su-san. Flower-Egg was curled asleep in the center of his pillow, the little black button of her nose serving as the only distinction between her and a large puff of cotton.

She hadn't seemed traumatized when I retrieved her from the top of the cliff after a day spent in her former habitat, but now I could tell that Su-san's absence was starting to affect her. He had been the one who fed her and played with her everyday—quite possibly the first human affection she'd ever been shown—before I had even arrived at this school. Without him she was listless and quiet and spent most of her time sleeping even though I did my best to cheer her up.

My best probably wasn't that great these past three days. I was miserable without him, too.

I showered clumsily, first stepping inside with my clothes still on then, after correcting the situation, soaping my skin up with shampoo by accident. The whole process took about twice as long as it would have if I were in my right mind and those wasted minutes would have to come out of breakfast, which wasn't too great a sacrifice since I was too uptight to feel much of an appetite.

Deciding that red projected the most confidence, I pulled on a red t-shirt and a comfortable pair of tan shorts. I wasn't sure what activities the day might bring, so it seemed wise to dress for comfort and motility. I pinned my Golden Arrow right over my heart. The underground was cool, I remembered, so I grabbed a pale blue hooded pullover as well.

By now Flower-Egg was awake and wheezing to go out, so I scooped her up and we left. "Your, uh, Mama, is going to come home today," I told her as I closed the door behind us. No matter how nervous I felt I couldn't lose my faith in that outcome.

Hot breakfast service didn't start until eight, but there were individually wrapped, nonperishable items made by the kitchen staff set out in baskets on the buffet tables for midnight snackers and early risers. None of it could really be considered part of a balanced canine diet, but there wasn't time to forage for alternatives so we would have to make do with it. I grabbed a couple of whole-wheat bagels and stuffed them into my pockets then headed outside to give Flower-Egg a chance to take care of her business.

"Come on! Come on!" I urged as she sniffed fussily at a patch of grass in front of the school. I couldn't yell or get angry with her, of course, as she was a dog and had no conception of the hurry we were in, but I really wished she would just pick a spot and go. I caught movement out on the beach through the corner of my vision; a student was out for a morning jog, too far away for me to identify. He paused and I shrank into the shadow of the school, not wanting to draw attention. What was this guy doing up so early anyways?

His silhouette looked kind of familiar but my brain couldn't process the identity.

Whoever it was, he eventually continued on his way, after shaving a few more seconds off of my spare time, and Flower-Egg did her business. She had dawdled enough, however, that I didn't have time to drop her back off at the room, so I had to take her with me.

China's bedroom door was unlocked, naturally, but I still felt a twinge of unease letting myself in. Old hang-ups weren't easy to dispel completely, even under dire circumstances. The secret staircase was already exposed, or, more likely, hadn't been closed since the Student Council members and I had last ascended it. Despite all my nervous rushing, I had allotted myself generous traveling time. I was very eager to see Su-san, even if he wasn't the person who would be talking through his mouth.

I began my spiraling descent with one hand on the staircase railing—the dim blue lamps were just not enough illumination to make me feel sure-footed—and the other hand holding an unwrapped bagel for the little dog tucked under my arm to nibble at her leisure. She only took two bites before expressing her dissatisfaction with a whine that echoed in the dark stone tube.

"I know it's not great, but it's all we've got," I sighed. She didn't eat any more but she didn't complain either.

The stairs seemed to end more quickly than they had on my previous two visits. Maybe I just took stairs faster than my traveling companions who set the pace had. Down the hallway and through the brass doors I walked, trying now, at the eleventh hour, to activate that stupid Golden Arrow with my mind. Why didn't it work on me? Did I really have no special talents to speak of?

I passed through the atrium with brisk, clipping steps and plunged right into the interrogation room at the end. The seven faces that greeted me were not the ones I was expecting and my shoes practically skidded to a stunned halt.

"You guys are all here already?" I asked, to Germany, France, Italy, England, Japan, Russia, and China—okay, one of the faces was expected. "You're early. And what about…? Where are the other Founders?"

"They are waiting at the arena," China said, as casually as if he thought it was common knowledge that every subterranean hideout had its own arena. "Once everyone has arrived I will escort you in."

Shame singed the center of my chest. "I guess I'm the last one, huh?"

"Not quite," England clucked in annoyance. "We still have to wait for the Star-Spangled Moron to arrive."

Ah, I knew there was somebody missing. But why did England always refer to America in such disparaging terms? If his intent was merely to throw people off the scent that the two of them were lovers, he was easily giving the matter triple the necessary effort. Perhaps their relationship was complex beyond my naïve comprehension and I would be better off not expending my reserves of mental energy on it.

Everyone was dressed with personality; that is, not being restricted to the school uniform or even by the dress code that dictated non-class attire, the members of the Student Council were wearing their own styles. France's trousers looked like they could have been painted on, they were so tight, and his white silk shirt revealed a rather immodest stripe of hairy chest through its ruffled opening. These, together with his tall leather boots and golden ponytail, gave him the look of a women's romance novel cover—not that I had any interest in reading such things, but I had seen them in bookstores.

Germany's choice attire was far to the other side on a scale of formality: a starched collared shirt, buttoned all the way up and accented with a perfectly knotted blue necktie, pressed charcoal grey slacks, and wing-tipped shoes. But where most teenagers would look awkward and uncomfortable in such stiff clothing, Germany looked like he was finally in his natural state.

In contrast, Italy, the sparkling little planet that orbited this regimented sun, was in shorts and a t-shirt that bore a marinara-colored stain on the right sleeve. A matching smear on his chin told a story of pasta for breakfast and a wipe of his shoulder that didn't quite get the job done. Crammed into the back pockets of his shorts were handmade paper flags on what I guessed were chopsticks for poles. There was one for each member of the Student Council, including a Finnish flag for me, who, at least in title, was now Historian.

Russia wore khaki trousers tucked into chunky black combat boots. I couldn't tell what sort of shirt he had on because on top of it was a long jacket that looked several generations old and ended past his knees. It was sandy brown with a single row of brass buttons, and beneath his Golden Arrow was some sort of Russian war badge. The look was completed with a wool scarf that made me sweat just looking at it.

Then there was England in his forest green cloak, which brought the color of his eyes out in full force to match it. The cloak had a hood, but he wasn't wearing it, and the rest flowed over his shoulders and down his back in shadowy folds that reminded me of a Van Eyck painting. The clothes he wore underneath it were just ordinary English: cropped slacks, red vest, white shirt, brown shoes.

Japan's outfit was unique because it was distinctly non-Western. It was an ensemble of two pieces, a wide-legged shirt that closed like a kimono and wide-legged pants that tied in front with a belt. It was the sort of attire that appeared in art from pre-War Japan and the different fabrics for the two parts were beautifully patterned. On his feet he wore wooden sandals over white socks that were split between the biggest and secondary toes.

China wore his red brocade jacket, but I'd seen him in it before so it barely registered any attention.

So that is how I filled the minutes waiting for America in that claustrophobic room. The one consistency between all of the members of the Student Council was that they all bore their Golden Arrows in plain sight over their hearts.

"Did anybody call for a hero?"

America's bold declaration, though it did get everyone's attention, did not appear to garner the reaction he was hoping for. "Finally," and "What took you so long?" were among the phrases I heard, but everyone's voices had become indistinguishable mutters of impatience so I couldn't tell who spoke them.

A pair of dark sunglasses slid down America's nose in his wilting moment after the anticlimax. Being the resilient sort, however, he recovered almost immediately, pushed the sunglasses back up to their appropriate position, smoothed his bomber jacket over a snug black t-shirt, and beamed an arrogant smile at his classmates. "Of course this is a very serious occasion," he proclaimed. "My entrance was merely a test, and by responding with appropriate reticence you all passed. Good job, men!"

More grumbles filled the room and one of them grew into a distinctly English scoff. "I take it you're the last to arrive because of the time it took to squeeze your arse into those ridiculous slim-cut blue jeans?"

"No," America snorted cockily. "I was putting in contacts so I could wear my shades. Besides, last time I wore these jeans you said I looked just like James Dean."

England scowled but turned a very obvious shade of rose as he did, undermining any chance he had of seeming genuinely disdainful. "Wearing sunglasses underground," he sniffed. "You look like a damn fool."

"This coming from a guy dressed like Frodo," America chuckled and England spat back a sharp response.

"You only know that name because they made a movie!"

"Alright then," China chirped, bringing order back to the room—not a moment too soon, I thought, as I got the strong feeling that an argument between the President and Vice President could last for hours if left to it's own momentum. "Now that everyone has arrived, we should make our way to the arena where my colleagues are waiting."

China led the way through the door that had taken Su-san and me to the Founders' lounge on a previous visit, but this time he took a different permutation of lefts and rights in the complex hallway system. The small hall fed into a wider hall with brighter lighting, and we all proceeded like a strange multinational parade. Nobody said a word during the walk, not even the ever-excitable Italy. But the mood wasn't solemn, rather it was a mood of anticipation; each one of us was like a compressed spring, full of potential energy and ready to compete.

We arrived at the end of the hallway in front of yet another set of double doors and my skin tingled as if a mild electrical current were running over it—the entrance to the school and to the underground atrium had conditioned me to expect something incredible behind it. And when China pushed the doors open, I saw that my instinctive reaction had been completely appropriate.

The arena was set in a space very much like the baths, an enormous cavern that was either naturally occurring and by incredible chance was the perfect size and shape to suit this purpose, or painstakingly carved out so that it looked naturally occurring. But whatever its origin was, it demanded awe from anyone witnessing it by virtue of its beauty and shear size. It was large enough to house the miniature Coliseum that we found ourselves standing in.

"Mamma mía!" Italy squeaked as he spun around in his spot. "It's just like the one in Rome. Only smaller and not in ruins."

"You have a good eye, boy. The design was indeed inspired by the Roman original. With some modifications of course," said Alessandro, who had appeared so suddenly in front of our group—in his finest Roman regalia, of course—that I had to blink a few times to make sure my eyes weren't playing a trick. "It's built on a smaller scale," he explained, "and has a lot of modern technological features that weren't available yet to the greatest civilization. Not that they needed them."

My eyes were searching immediately for the other Founders—well, just one of them really—and in doing so they got a full panorama of the arena. Even if it wasn't on the scale of the Roman Coliseum, it was big enough to make one's jaw drop. Stadium-strength lighting fixtures beamed down bright illumination from the craggy ceiling, a modern touch that was a necessity underground. There was also one of those four-sided displays that sports venues use to show replays and up-close footage suspended in the center of the oval arena.

And there were a few details that made my brain twist in curiosity because I could tell that they must have something to do with today's event. Four stone towers, several meters high, were set up, one on each of the four sides of the arena. Strung between two of them, the more distant pair, was a bridge of rope and wooden slats. I couldn't imagine what that was for.

And none of us asked the obvious question: What need could a population of eight possibly have for this place? But I had a feeling we were all thinking it.

Then my eyes found their target, and all speculation was pushed to a back corner of my mind, at least for the moment. Torvald, dressed in Su-san's beautiful body, had stepped out of the entrance opposite from the one we used and was making his way towards me, flanked by the other Founders. My heart thudded loudly in my chest. His dark, dark blue gaze was locked onto me like a hawk targeting a chipmunk.

"Tino," he said gruffly, and though it was my real name spoken with Berwald's vocal chords, it gave me only an ill feeling because I knew it wasn't Berwald saying it. The sound was too forced, an obvious effort on Torvald's part not to call me Astrid. Then he suddenly dropped to one knee and took my hand, pressing a kiss to the pale knuckles. "By the end of this day, you will be mine, my dearest. I will make it so."

The brush of Su-san's hijacked lips against my skin triggered an outbreak of goosebumps, an involuntary physical reaction to his body. I jerked my hand away abruptly, disgusted at myself, and at the same time, Flower-Egg burst into shrill, angry barks. She could see past the familiar face of the boy who had befriended her to the sinister stranger inside.

Torvald drew back and his lips pulled down in alarm, and several other people close by jumped at the sudden eruption of sound from the tiny animal.

"Whoa! That thing is alive?" America interjected, leaning closer to blink in shock at little Flower-Egg. "I thought it was a stuffed toy." Flower-Egg had stopped her yapping as soon as Torvald had retreated a suitable distance, but she gave America a single unimpressed "_woof_" for his insensitivity.

"Alright," Alessandro boomed out in his jovial voice, bringing all attention to him. He made sweeping gestures with his arms as he spoke, which, in this grand environment, felt entirely appropriate. "Welcome St. Hetalia Student Council. Now that everyone is here, we shall commence the competition for the Stars and Arrows. We members of the Founders' Guild have worked diligently over the past three days to prepare seven fair events."

A choir of skeptical murmurs broke out all around me at the word "fair." The two factions had separated out by now, facing each other like opponents in an American football game, and I could feel the agitation on my side. They all had the same concerns that I did.

"I've been thinking about this," America said, his face scrunching. "How can we be sure that the events are fair when you guys are the ones who made them up."

China took a graceful step forward to answer. "As one with friends on both sides, I give you my word that the competition is fair and unbiased. Not one of us designed the event he or she will partake in and we haven't shared information with each other. And, above all, we are ladies and gentlemen of honor who believe in fair play. You all have known me for the past several years—I would not lie to you."

Sighs of consent rose from the student council, though, as I'd already meditated upon in the shower, we really had no other choice but to go along with anything they decided. But I really did believe, because China said so and my faith in him was second only to my faith in Su-san. I nodded my head determinedly and extended a hand to my rival. China looked down at it for a moment, a mild look of surprise on his face, before smiling and shaking it firmly.

The other Student Council members, as if taking my action as a cue, offered their hands to the Founders they would be competing against.

"The first match to begin will be Japan versus Germania," Alessandro announced. "Everyone else can go and find a seat." It was clear to me from my first time meeting him that Ancient Rome was the leader of the Founders' Guild just as America was the leader of the Student Council. So it was no surprise that Rome had adopted the mantle of MC for the competition—America would definitely have done the same if the event were hosted on the surface. Incidentally, the two of them were probably the only ones present who wouldn't need a microphone to be heard even if the stadium were filled up to the back rows.

I followed the Student Council members, who themselves were following the Founders, to the front row of seats. When I saw the accommodations, it was clear that they had been specially prepared, like the owner's box at a sporting venue. The front several rows on either side of a center aisle—I assumed this feature was incorporated to keep the teams separate and civil—had been draped with soft red velvet cloth and strewn with dozens of gold-fringed pillows to make the stone benches look more inviting. It worked, to some extent, but wasn't nearly as effective as the food at ensuring a warm welcome.

In both seating sections there were generously filled platters and baskets of food arranged. I saw fresh fruit in a rainbow of colors: fat purple and green grapes, ripe red strawberries the size of golf balls, two kinds of pears, four kinds of apples, sliced crescents of honeydew and cantaloupe melons, and perfectly yellow bananas with just a smattering of brown speckles. And there was a basket overflowing with more varieties of cheese and sausage than most run-of-the-mill deli shops could offer. One plate held three-dozen deviled eggs in little egg-shaped nests. Another was piled with donuts and pastries oozing every imaginable filling.

Despite all my anxiety about this entire situation, my mouth filled with saliva at the sight—and smell—of the spread being offered. In my arm, Flower-Egg was wriggling like a fish on a ship deck, eager to enjoy this feast after my paltry offering of whole-wheat bagels. I let out a tiny sigh as I sat down and picked up a deviled egg to feed her. But I couldn't bring myself to eat anything, hungry as I was; my nerves were so frayed right now that anything I put in my empty stomach had a good chance of coming right back up.

My teammates looked to be of a similar mindset, picking here and there, but not one of them eating anything bigger than a grape. Even Italy, a known gourmand, sat tensely on the edge of the bench, giving his eyes to Japan rather than the food and clenching his makeshift Japanese flag. We were all watching him, our friend and first competitor, and wondering what task he'd have to outmatch Germania in.

I could feel Torvald's gaze on me from across the aisle, but I refused to turn towards it. Well, maybe just a quick peek. I turned my neck and almost immediately a smug smile spread unbecomingly on those chiseled lips that didn't belong to him, as if he were claiming my passing glance as a surrender to him. I scowled; he knew damn well that my only interest in him was getting him out of Su-san's body.

The rest of the Founders were enjoying their food much more liberally than our side, and in their classical attire they looked like a historical reenactment troupe stopping for a picnic. Only the beautiful redhead, Evelyn, was intently watching the event about to start.

"Let us begin!" Alessandro bellowed from the floor. Japan and Germania stood on either side of him and in his hand was a scroll. He opened it and read it loudly. "The first event is a contest of self-discipline. Japan and Germania will each climb to the top of one of the designated towers and will remain sitting there, without moving or shifting positions, while the other contests take place."

So it was some sort of Zen sit-off. My insides lurched, unsure if they should feel hopeful or queasy. Germania, Leopold I think he was named, looked like he was carved out of wood, every bit as stoically self-contained as Japan. These matches definitely were not chosen at random and the events were thoughtfully engineered.

But did we really stand a chance?

Japan and Germania climbed up the ladders onto their towers—the shorter pair, not the pair connected by a rope bridge, which was set up for god-knows-what—and each settled into a cross-legged sit. Japan was atop the tower closest to us, and I couldn't decide if that was an advantage or a disadvantage, as I had never made a conscious attempt to sit still for hours. It's possible the proximity to the spectators would mean more distractions, but being farther could lull one into a false sense of freedom.

"Now that both competitors are in place, the motion sensitive lasers will be activated," Alessandro continued. "If either one moves his body more than two centimeters in any direction, and alarm will sound and he will be disqualified." He walked over to a control panel on the arena sidelines and pressed a few buttons. Immediately, birdcages of delicate red light came to life around Japan and Germania, but neither one flinched. The giant four-screen display hanging from the ceiling lit up and showed a split view of the two competitors on every screen. Japan's face was as tranquil as a Buddhist monk's.

With number one now under way, Alessandro made the announcement for number two. "The next event will be Germany versus Ancient Egypt."

Germany stood up at the calling of his name and Italy stood with him, practically shaking with enthusiasm. "You're going to win, Germany, I know it! You're going to do awesome! Go for it, Germany!"

"I'll win it," Germany said, placing a hand on the top Italy's head and almost smiling at him. It was the most affectionate act I had ever witnessed from Germany, even if it was very understated.

Italy plunked himself down on the bench to my left with a confident smile on his face. "Don't worry, Finland," he said, pulling out his German flag. "Germany won't lose. He's really smart and really strong. He never loses. He's the best!"

I felt the corners of my mouth start to tug upwards, the first symptom of Italy's contagious attitude, and I could truly understand why he was one of the most popular guys in the whole school. He made me wish I had flags to wave, too.

Down on the arena floor, the two competitors had arrived and Ancient Egypt, Amunet, was sizing Germany up and looking quite unimpressed. Her dark, slender arms were crossed over her torso haughtily and her feline eyes seemed almost mocking in the way they rolled over her rival.

Alessandro cleared his throat. He held in his hand another scroll—where he was retrieving these from, I had no idea—which he opened and began reading from. "The second event is a data organization battle between Germany and Ancient Egypt. Each competitor will be presented with an identical stack of unsorted data and fifteen minutes to read through as much of it as possible and enter it correctly into a computer database. Whoever organizes the most data in the given time with the fewest errors will be declared the winner. Helena, if you please."

I hadn't even noticed that Ancient Greece had left her seat, but there she was down on the arena floor, pushing out a wheeled table laden with two computers and two thick stacks of papers. The Founders really had this whole thing perfectly orchestrated, like a circus production. This was probably one of the most exciting things to happen to them in centuries, so why wouldn't they put forth every effort to make it a spectacle?

There was a flash on the display screens as Japan and Germania's faces shrank into one corner and Germany and Ancient Egypt took over the majority of the space.

Amunet smirked. "Don't even think about getting cocky, Bratwurst. The Egyptians were one of the first civilizations to use writing to organize their thoughts, you know."

But Germany looked utterly unflappable. Next to me, Italy was practically swooning.

"Let's have fifteen minutes on the clock," Alessandro called out, and a digitized image of an hourglass with 15:00 written on it appeared in another corner of the display. On his command of "Ready. Go!" the pixilated sand began to fall and the clock began to count down.

Two sets of hands and two sets of eyes were suddenly moving so wildly on the video feed that they became blurs. It was like nothing I had ever seen; these two competitors had instantly transformed into human data processors, flipping through pages, scanning information, and typing it into the computer at unbelievable speed. And what us spectators couldn't see, what was going on inside their brains, had to be incredible.

It was strangely exciting to watch. There was no way of knowing who was ahead, but I found myself nudging to the edge of the bench with tension.

And then it happened. The wince of pain on Germany's face was unmistakable. His hand dropped the piece of paper it was holding and flapped in the air as everyone on our side gasped in unison. Italy let out a squeak of shock. "Oh no! It's a paper cut!"

"A paper cut?" I echoed as my heart plummeted down into my feet. It was a devastating injury; the anguish was written plainly on Germany's face. There was no way he could keep up his pace with his finger stinging unmercifully.

Then, suddenly, Italy was up on his feet. And his voice rang out through the stunned silence like a church bell. "Don't give up, Ludwig! Don't slow down! Fight through the pain! I know you can do it!" His German flag was whipping back and forth, that little curl of hair bobbing in fervor.

But the words reached Germany like an elixir of life and took immediate effect. His face steeled, he gave the wounded digit a quick laving with his tongue, and his hands were flying again. One question remained, however: Could he make up for the time he'd lost?

The last sands trickled into the bottom of the digital hourglass as the timer reached 00:00 and a loud chime sounded. "Time's up!" Alessandro declared at the same moment. "Both competitors will stand back while the computer calculates the results."

Germany and Amunet each stepped away from the table, the later with a victorious smirk already painted on her features, and new sets of numbers appeared superimposed over their images on screen. There were two scores for each of them, the number of items entered and the number of errors. All four numbers went up as the computer did its calculations and finally stopped.

The end results: Amunet entered eight hundred ninety-six items of data and made seven errors. Germany entered nine hundred two items of data and made five errors.

"Victory this round goes to Germany!" Alessandro bellowed.

The rest of the Student Council whooped in delight at our friend's victory, except for Japan, who remained still as a statue. As expected, Italy displayed the most joy of all of us, jumping up and down and hollering. "Magnifico! Molto bene!" And when Germany rejoined our group, wearing a very dignified expression, Italy threw his arms around him in a larger than life embrace.

"Way to go, Ironsides!" said America, patting him on the back.

"Good show," said England, smiling.

Across the aisle, Amunet sank onto the bench with an exceptionally sour look on her face. She clearly wasn't prepared to lose. Ancient Greece, Helena, rubbed her shoulder soothingly.

"The first win belongs to the Student Council," said Alessandro, trying to get things moving again. "But the competition has only just begun. The third event will be France versus Ancient Greece. Please come forward."

France stood up, grinning suavely. "Ah, it iz France's time to shine." Before he could take a step, though, England stood and gave his silk sleeve a sharp yank to get his attention.

"Stay focused," England said tartly. "Don't let that pretty face distract you."

"You are worrying for nothing," France said, stroking his stubbly jaw. "France does not get distracted by ze beautiful ladies and gentlemen of zis world, 'e coexists with zem in perfect 'armony. Miss Ancient Greece's lovely face will be an inspiration for moi." And, with that, he shook England off his arm and headed to the floor.

"Uh, do you really think he'll be okay?" I asked England softly, since he seemed to know a lot more about France's nature than I did.

"God I hope so," he sighed. "I'm sure you remember how he greeted you upon your arrival, Finland. He's a hopeless flirt who pursues both genders with equal voracity. And Miss Ancient Greece down there is definitely in his taste."

I felt my brow growing dewy with nervous sweat. "Let's have faith in France," I said, trying to rally both of our hopes. "He won't let his passions interfere with the competition."

But the way France was eyeing Ancient Greece was unmistakably amorous.

"For this event," Alessandro read loudly from a third scroll, "France and Ancient Greece will face off in a battle of taste. Both competitors will be blindfolded and will take turns identifying wines, cheeses, fruits, and seasonings based only on the senses of taste and smell. If one misidentifies an item and the other is then able to correctly name it, the first shall be disqualified. If neither can identify the item, the match will continue. Are the rules clear?"

"Clear as crystal," Helena chirped in her lilting, feminine voice and France lifted an eyebrow at the sweet sound.

"Oui, I understand as well," he said. His reply was for Alessandro, but his gaze never left his opponent. "May ze sharpest taste buds win. Mmm, and I am grateful zis iz not a beauty contest, for even ze handsome moi could not win against a maiden as fair as you." Then he bowed and took her hand, kissing the top in the same manner that Torvald had kissed mine.

While Alessandro was explaining the event, Amunet, still frowning, had whisked back down to the stage and wheeled away the table that was the scene of her defeat. Now she reappeared with a pushcart covered with a cloth—it's oddly tented shape hinted at cups and bottles and bowls beneath. Draped over the handlebar were two black silk blindfolds. Alessandro took one and tied it snuggly over Helena's eyes causing her to let out a flirty giggle. Amunet took the other and France grinned at her.

"To be blindfolded by such a beautiful creature as yourself, mademoiselle, iz a rare treat indeed," he purred. "If your delicate hand were to brush against my skin I just might fall in love."

She did not look at all won over by his attempted wooing, saying nothing and narrowing her eyes in annoyance as she tied the blindfold with visible roughness that wrenched France's head back. "Is it tight enough?" she asked coyly.

France's lascivious smile just grew wider. "You are a spicy one."

To my right, I heard England let out a small groan. "Well at least he's got a blindfold on."

"Let us begin the match," said Alessandro. He clapped his hands once and the hanging screen zoomed in on France and Ancient Greece's faces—wedged in their small corner, Japan and Germania continued to look like still photos, even though I knew it was a live feed. Then, with a flourish of his arm, Alessandro whipped off the cloth, exposing myriad tasting samples in various containers, and the contest began.

Alessandro placed a tiny glass bowl in Helena's hand and she dipped a finger into its contents and touched it to her tongue. After a second taste and a moment of thought she said, "Lemon myrtle."

A big green O blinked over her image on the screen and was accompanied by cheery chime.

Then it was France's turn and Amunet handed him a bowl. He tasted it just like Helena had. "Too easy. Zat iz star anise," he said, earning him an O and a chime, and a wave of the French flag from Italy.

And it continued this way for round after round. The names of the things they tasted, fine wines and exotic cheeses, were mostly foreign to me. At first I was puzzled to how their responses were being verified, but a quick glance at the Founders' seating section—presently just three members—revealed that China was holding an answer key and giving a silent thumbs up after each correct response. Somehow just knowing that China was directly involved in the judging reassured me that the event wasn't rigged.

But, of course, that brief glimpse across the aisle filled my eyes with Su-san's captive body. I was relieved that Torvald wasn't still staring at me. He was watching the match with cold intensity, which wasn't a rare expression for Su-san's features, but that sparkle of kindness that was Su-san's soul wasn't there.

I couldn't forget why we were here. I had to get him back.

Meanwhile, France and Helena were taking longer and longer to supply the names of the things they tasted, pausing for five, six or more seconds. There was yet to be a wrong answer, but the items were obviously getting harder to identify, the flavors more subtle and nuanced. Each time France hesitated, I held my breath. Just like with Germany's competition, an activity that would otherwise be mundane was rendered nail-bitingly tense because of the atmosphere the Founders had created and because of the high stakes involved.

It was France's turn again and his face—well, his eyebrows and his mouth since his eyes were covered—was looking a lot less cocky than it had during round one. His sample was a bowl containing something white and an itty-bitty silver spoon to eat it with. He took a dainty taste and swished it around on his palette for a moment. Then his proud smile returned in force. "Ah, zat ripe aroma, zat creamy texture, it iz unmistakable. Zis iz undoubtedly ze rare Sardinian delicacy, casu marzu."

For half a second there was silence. I had never heard of casu marzu, but France seemed so utterly confident that I didn't doubt him and expected a chime. The sound of the buzzer, unheard up till now, shot down my spine like an electric current. He was wrong. On the screen, a great red X appeared over France's face and I felt the same plummeting sensation inside me I'd felt when Germany sliced his finger.

But that situation had turned out okay; Germany still won. And France could still win, too. As long as Helena couldn't correctly identify what was in that little bowl, the match would continue.

She took a spoonful and my hand clenched at a tuft of Flower-Egg's fur. _Please be wrong. Please be wrong. Please be wrong._

"The taste and the texture _is_ very reminiscent of casu marzu," she said thoughtfully. "But this particular cheese is a Nicaraguan variety, not Sardinian."

A chime and a green O announced her victory, for the round and for the match.

"The winner of this round is the lovely Ancient Greece," Alessandro announced. "Which makes the overall score a tie of one to one. You both clearly have impeccable tastes."

Italy let out a whimper of disappointment. England sighed. "He did better than any one of us would have," he said. "And at least he lost on his own merits and didn't embarrass himself too much with his flamboyant romancing."

Apparently England had spoken too soon; on the arena floor, France had unmasked himself and was clasping Helena's hand in both of his as he spoke flirtatiously. "Your performance was quite impressive, sweet mademoiselle. I am in awe of your talents. Per'aps as a consolation prize you will let me 'have a taste of you?"

I never thought the sound of a slap on the face could fill up a stadium this size, but now I knew better. When France returned to sit with us, he was rubbing a perfectly hand-shaped mark on his cheek—something else I just learned was that this could occur outside of cartoons—but he was smiling.

"I think she likes me," he said. Then his smile fell guiltily. "I am sorry I let you all down. Especially you, dear Finland."

I wanted to tell him that his performance was phenomenal and I was grateful just that he was willing to participate, but America was quicker with his tongue and got in the first comment. "Don't sweat it, Pepe Le Pew. My event has got to be coming up soon and I'll put us back in first place. After all, that's what heroes do. Right, Finny?"

"Uh… I guess," I said, still relatively new to dealing with America. Luckily, I didn't have to say anything more because the next match was about to be announced.

"Now I will hand the next scroll to my beautiful assistants as I will be competing in the event it describes," Alessandro said, sounding more excited than he had all morning. "So would the United States of America please join me?"

America stood up, pumping his fists eagerly and grinning from ear to ear. "I told you I was next. Get ready for some five-star heroics, guys, 'cause I'm going to hit this one out of the park."

"That doesn't even make sense!" England huffed. "How is hitting a home run in baseball heroic? And what's that got to do with this competition?" His harshness with America was somehow different from his harshness with France earlier. It almost seemed like he was saying mean things in place of something else—the emotion he injected was real, but it just didn't feel like anger to me.

"You'll understand when you see me win," America said. "Just watch."

England crossed his arms over his chest as America walked down to the arena floor, and on some inexplicable impulse I nudged him with my elbow and whispered to him. "Don't you think you should say something a little more encouraging?" He made a little grunting noise without turning to look at me. "Why don't you at least tell him good luck?" I urged.

It took a few seconds for him to act, but England did holler down to America. "Good luck!"

America responded with a laugh. "Heroes don't need luck!"

"_That_ is why I don't tell him good luck," England said.

Helena and Amunet opened the fourth scroll together and took turns reading from it.

"The fourth event will be a high speed game of 'chicken' between the United States of America and Ancient Rome," said Helena. Almost as soon as the words had left her lips, there were two simultaneous bursts of blue smoke atop the bridge-connected towers that dissolved to reveal two shiny motorcycles.

"Sweet!" America exclaimed. Both he and Alessandro looked like little boys who had just been given brand new toys to play with.

"The two contestants will ride their motorcycles towards each other along the rope and wood bridge, and the first to decelerate or stop will lose the match," said Amunet. "Each motorcycle has been equipped with a sensor that will send an immediate signal to our computers if the bike decelerates and end the match. Are the rules clear?"

"Bring it on!" America declared.

"Let's do this!" said Alessandro with matching enthusiasm.

The blood in my vessels ran suddenly cold. Taste-offs and data sort-a-thons and sitting still contests were one thing, but this was actually life risking. If neither one of them stopped in time, the only other options were a head-on collision or plowing off the side of the bridge. This was not good.

Desperately, I turned to England, hoping he could offer some sort of reassurance. To my shock, he looked as if all the blood had drained from his face. He was as pale as a ghost and as terrified as if he'd just seen one.

"He's going to be okay, right?" I asked, my voice cracking in fear. "I mean, he's gotta be okay."

But England just kept staring, eyes wide with horror, at America, who was now making his way to the top of his tower. "He… he's going to get himself killed!" he croaked.

To be continued…


	14. Chapter 13

Free Talk: Thank you (for the magnanimous support) and I'm sorry (for taking so long) to everyone reading this. It means so much to me that people are still following this story even though circumstances are keeping the updates widely spaced these days. This particular chapter comes with a warning.

Warning: This chapter is rather heavy on US/UK. Because of this, and because of the length of their events, Russia v. Ancient Scandinavia has been pushed to the next chapter. I did not want the US/UK to detract from the impact of that scene. To those who like America and England, I hope you like their chapter in the limelight. To those not so keen on the pair, remember that by next chapter they will once again be taking a backseat to Finland and Su-san. I hope you won't feel gypped in any way. This is still a SuFin story after all.

Well, besides the implications of that warning, I hope this chapter is still very much enjoyed. Please tell me what you think.

**Outcast**  
By Angelsaurus

Chapter 13

Looking at England, my first thought was, quite selfishly: Is this how my face looked when China told me that Torvald might obliterate Su-san's very existence? The lids were stretched open wide around his shining green eyes and his skin was as pale as milk. His lower jaw was slack, quivering slightly. He was under the spell of a distinct brand of terror that I'd had the displeasure of experiencing for myself, that terror of knowing the person you care about most is in mortal peril.

"America isn't… He's not going to die," I said, without the certainty needed to make it an effective consolation. "I mean, I get the impression that he likes to win, but he's still a human being with an instinct for self preservation."

"You don't know Alfred like I do," England said. His voice was somehow both frightened and irritated at once. "Any intelligent instinct he has is overpowered by his stupidly romanticized idea of heroism. He would rather die in a blaze of glory than live and lose." He frowned severely. "Selfish git! Doesn't even think about what his supposedly heroic death would do to the people he'd leave behind! His family! His friends!"

England didn't include his own name in that list, but he didn't have to. It was one of those things that went without saying. I wasn't sure what support, if any, I could really offer him in words, so I just touched my hand to his arm and stayed silent.

Both America and Ancient Rome had made it to the top of their towers and were putting on safety helmets. America beamed down a fearless smile at us and gave a thumbs-up. England was shaking like a tiny dog.

"Contestants, mount your bikes!" the Ancient ladies of Greece and Egypt called out together, loud enough to be heard up on the towers. The display screen flicked to a split view of the two eagerly grinning young men and the sound of revving engines filled the stadium; it sent my skin bubbling into goose pimples. "Accelerate on three!" the ladies shouted above the growl. "One! Two!"

"Oh god, I can't watch," England uttered, burying his face in his hands.

I wasn't sure if my tangle of internal organs could handle the tension of watching this spectacle, but before I could look away, the girls yelled "Three!" and the bikes zoomed forward.

The event only took a matter of seconds to play out but somehow my brain filtered the input from my eyes and ears and converted it into cinematic slow motion. A gust of wind ripped across the faces of those of us in the seats as the motorcycles raced towards each other. There was a sudden flash of sky blue from the shadow beneath America's helmet but it wasn't meant for me; I could tell those eyes were aimed just to the right of me, to England. Did England see, or was he still hiding his face behind his hands?

When America's gaze snapped back in front of him after that split-second loss of focus, Alessandro was barreling down on him. He pulled to the side and several things happened at once: Alessandro's bike tore through the side of America's with a metallic scream; an alarm buzzed as the collision forced both riders to decelerate; the rope railing that America's bike was hugging snapped and he flew in a fast, smooth arc to the ground, impacting with a hideous crunch.

And it all happened in less than five seconds.

I was paralyzed. I couldn't move, or even breathe as I stared in horror at America's motorcycle, on its side with wheels still spinning, and the crumpled shape of the rider several meters away. He wasn't moving.

England, however, was; in the time it would have taken me to blink if I could only make my eyelids shut, England vaulted down onto the arena floor and was sprinting like a deer towards America's still body. He was the quickest to react, but another did within a fraction of a second.

"Finland, come with me." It was China's voice, crisp and urgent.

It took another fraction of a second for me to register that he'd addressed me, and another still for me to snap out of my trance and turn towards the sound. China was already up out of his seat and heading for the arena floor, but my eyes connected with his for a fleeting moment and I knew not to question him; I set down Flower-Egg and followed him.

Who had won the match? I had no idea; I'd heard the disqualification buzzer, I think, but hadn't looked to the screen to see who had triggered it first. Right now I didn't even care.

China stopped on the sidelines of the arena to pick up a pole and canvas stretcher. "Grab the other end," he told me, and I obeyed with a quick nod.

My heart was slamming against my ribs as we approached the crash site. Even as my brain cried out a desperate prayer for America to be okay, I knew that he couldn't possibly be unscathed after that fall. He was hurt, maybe badly, maybe… No. I wouldn't let myself think it.

England was already crouched at his side when we arrived and set down the stretcher, muttering words I probably could have made out if I focused my ears but would have felt too invasive in doing so. There was something deeply personal about the scene.

Seeing America in this state made my skin sheath in cool sweat. He was splayed out on his back, head turned so that only one side was clearly visible. A patch of skin the size of a deck of cards had been flayed from his cheek, leaving the raw red flesh exposed and a smear of blood on the stone floor indicating the path his face had scraped over. His arms, however, were the source of real horror, snarled on either side of him with more bends than a spider's legs. The left one was so mangled that the broken, jutting bone—an obscene extra corner between his shoulder and elbow—strained the leather sleeve of his jacket, threatening to poke through at any moment. Blood was already starting to trickle from the cuff.

I felt liquid rise in the back of my throat but swallowed in time and forced it back down. For some reason, the thought suddenly struck me that I wouldn't last a day in a war zone. "Is he…?" I began to ask in a soft croak of a voice, stopping to swallow again when I thought I felt the vomit encroaching again.

"He's breathing," said England in a voice even more frightened than my own. "I can hear the air whistling out of his nostrils. But… he won't open his eyes." He gritted his teeth and hissed out a command at America's unconscious face. "Wake up, you big idiot! This isn't funny!"

I hadn't noticed before, but there were tears beading at the corners of England's eyes and somehow they burned the rims of my own lids.

"I watched the crash," China said evenly. "The front wheel of the motorcycle hit first and his arms absorbed all of the impact. He was subsequently thrown over the handlebars, but not very far. His helmet popped off only after he hit the ground; I saw it with my own eyes."

"So you're saying…?" England said, tentatively, hopefully.

"I can't be sure, of course," China explained. "But besides the compound fractures in both his arms, it is likely that he only sustained minor injuries."

England's eyes squeezed around the edges but didn't close, as if he was trying his best to keep from crying and losing his composure. "Then why won't he wake up?" His voice was as taut as a bowstring.

"Well, he still might have a concussion," sighed China. "Like I said, I can't know for sure."

Suddenly America stirred and muttered something incoherent and England leaned in anxiously, shutting out China and me from his attention. "Al? You awake? Can you hear me?"

"Nnn…" America vocalized a small groan as his eyes scrunched tight and then fluttered open groggily. England's face lit up so brightly that I was sure he had absolutely forgotten anybody else was watching; it was a sort of smile I couldn't imagine huffy England willfully sharing with anybody else. In return, America flashed an obviously pained but optimistic smile of his own. "So… Did I win?"

That look of relief dissolved from England's face to be immediately replaced by tight-jawed fury. "You imbecile! You moron!" He knew better than to jostle a guy who was injured, but he wrung his fists on either side of America's face as if strangling him in his mind. "Why did you take your eyes off the road? Why did you look at me?"

"I had to make sure you were watching me win," said America. His smile fell. "So I take it I didn't win."

"I am afraid not," China said, sounding almost regretful even though he was on the opposing side. "But only by a matter of milliseconds."

Only now did the boy with two gruesomely broken arms look truly miserable. But the sulk on his bloodied face was only in place for a half-moment before England pressed in so closely that his forehead was touching America's.

"Don't you dare give me that pathetic, hangdog look!" he snarled. The tears that had budded in his eyes were starting to flow, dripping down his nose and onto America's face; his façade was cracking. "Do you have any idea what it would have done to me if you had died?"

America looked utterly flabbergasted. He didn't have an answer.

I felt the hot flush of embarrassment oozing into my cheeks as I tried, to no avail, to shut out their private moment and just focus on helping China. He'd spread out the stretcher and was carefully examining America's injuries, which America and England didn't even seem to notice, and I was patiently awaiting instruction.

"I'm going to move the stretcher underneath you now," China said. "Finland, England, will you help me?"

"I think I can stand up," America grumbled. "My arms kinda hurt, but my legs feel fine."

"You're in shock, moron! Lay still and let us move you." England's word proved to be final, and America didn't object or resist as we gingerly lifted him, bit-by-bit and maneuvered the stretcher beneath him. By the time he was on it, his face was contorted and it was clear that the pain was starting to catch up with him.

"I will give you something for the pain as soon as we get you off the field," China soothed. "Then Finland and I will bring you to the infirmary. There is one down here, specifically for injuries, as we never get sick."

"I'm going to come with him." It was a declaration from England, not a request, but China shook his head.

"Your event is up next, England. If you leave now, it will count as a forfeit."

My hands were already gripped around the stretcher poles at America's feet and I was about to lift when I heard China say this. It caused a sharp pinch deep in the center of my chest. "But these are special circumstances," I said. "Can't they postpone his event? Or… or switch the event order?" The second suggestion came out hesitantly; if China and England were taking America to the infirmary, it would leave only Torvald to compete. I knew the match between him and Russia was inevitable, but I wasn't ready to face it yet.

"As long as England is physically able to compete, he must," China said solemnly. "England, you must do your best not to let your concern over America distract you. He will be in very good hands. Alright Finland, let us lift."

I lifted right on cue and was surprised that the stretcher wasn't heavier—either America was a lot less muscled than he looked, or China a lot more. Right when we raised him off the ground, the patient let out a little groan making me cringe at the thought that I may have aggravated his injuries. But it turned out he was just clearing his throat before speaking.

"I want to stay and watch," America said. His voice wasn't as pitiful as it should have been; he was obviously steeling himself to deliver this statement. "Let me stay and watch England's match."

We kept on walking, moving the stretcher very carefully, as China replied. "I really don't think that's a good idea. You need prompt medical attention."

"It won't take too long," America answered. Then he turned his eyes towards England, who was hovering at his side, white-faced and silent. "You're going to win quickly, right Artie?"

It took a moment for the words to take effect, but when they did, the color flowed back into England's cheeks and the lights flickered back on behind his jewel-like green eyes. "Indeed, I won't take long," he said proudly. Then he said to China, "You may as well just give up the argument now and let him stay. He's nothing but a big baby, this one, and he'll whine and cry and be a big pain in the arse until he gets his way."

A little sigh escaped China's lips, though his overall air of unflappability remained intact. "Alright. We will transport him after your match, England. You won't let America be a distraction, right?"

"Not at all," said England, a strange little smirk taking form on his mouth. "He's not the only one who likes to show off."

I got it. England wanted America to watch him win just as badly as America had wanted to show his victory to England. But America had lost, so England absolutely couldn't.

China and I got America safely to the sidelines of the arena, just below where our teammates were seated, and set him down gently. Alessandro was waiting there with his motorcycle helmet under one arm. I could tell he was trying hard not to seem too pleased with his win, but I caught a smile snapping into place a couple times before he replaced it with a more serious expression.

"So is the kid going to be okay?" he asked, eyeing his former opponent. "I've got to give him credit. He is one brave son of a bitch." That definitely wasn't a term I expected from a five hundred-year old who styled himself as the personification of Ancient Rome, but then again, his aplomb on a motorcycle wasn't expected either.

"He might need to have pins put in that left arm," China said. "But in time he will make a full recovery."

I got a vague sense of being watched from behind and turned to see that my teammates from the Student Council—and little Flower-Egg—were all watching us with anxious eyes. Italy had his homemade American flag clutched tightly in his fist but wasn't waving it and Germany's hand was on his shoulder. I didn't know if they had heard what China just said—judging from their expressions I would guess not—so I cupped my hands around my mouth and repeated it for them.

"China says America will make a full recovery."

A collective sigh swept through the group and they relaxed visibly. On the other side of the aisle, Amunet and Helena were just returning to their seats and Evelyn was exiting hers in anticipation of her event. None of the ladies paid any attention to our injured friend, but Torvald was paying very close attention to me. Those ultramarine eyes, a perversion of Su-san's beautiful blue-green, were locked on me with predatory devotion.

I turned back around and felt his gaze burn the back of my ears; my heart was bounding again. It didn't matter if England won or lost his match, Torvald would face Russia in a yet to be announced battle of strength and there was no assurance against him getting broken just like America. It was Su-san's body and Su-san was in there; he would experience whatever pain and injury Russia inflicted.

"Finland, help me give him some water."

Once again, it was China's voice that brought me out of a trance. "Of course," I replied, taking the cup he placed in my hand and holding it steady as he filled it from a plastic pitcher.

"Swallow these," he said, not to me but to America, as he put two pills on the patient's tongue. They were enormous things that looked more suited for a horse than a human, and a distinct departure from China's usual Eastern treatments. I did my part and tipped the cup of water slowly into his mouth to wash them down.

As he took his medicine, America's blue eyes were rolled towards the center of the arena where Alessandro was about to resume his role as MC. Then he moved his gaze to England, still standing at his side. "Guess it's time for you to go out there," he said, smiling and then wincing at the pain it must have caused in his shredded cheek.

England didn't say anything. No haughty barb or tongue-in-cheek insult this time. He just bent down, swept America's bangs off his forehead and placed a kiss right in the center. Then he turned and walked out into the arena.

"The next event," Alessandro boomed. "Will pit the Ancient Celtic Isles against her modern day counterpart, England."

Evelyn looked just like an illustration of Morgan le Fey, clothed in a grass-green gown with a deeply scooped neckline that exposed her ivory flesh and sleeves that dripped down almost to the floor. The gentle waves of red hair that spilled down her back and over her shoulders glowed like flame under the bright lights overhead.

The Arthur that stood facing her could easily have played the young Once and Future King, with his mop of gold hair and stalwart expression. I could see it in his eyes, even from far away, the personal pride he had tied up in this event. He had to make up for America's loss and avenge his injury.

Maybe. Maybe my brain was just making things up because I was so nervous, for him, of course, but also for Su-san.

Alessandro raised one hand in the air and with a snap of his fingers the lights above dimmed slightly and a glowing red ring appeared on the floor, encircling him and the two competitors. It was a perfect circle with a large radius of about ten meters, and while I couldn't tell if it was a projection from above or illumination from below, I knew it demarcated the playing field for the event.

"The rules of this match are quite simple," Alessandro loudly explained. "Each opponent will attempt to expel the other from the ring without making any bodily contact. No kicking, no punching, no shoving, no head butting, no… well, I think you get the idea: No touching. There is no time limit. The first person to be knocked outside of the ring will be disqualified. Are the rules understood?"

"Understood," England replied.

"Completely," said Evelyn.

Alessandro nodded and then extricated himself from the ring and bellowed, "Let the match begin!"

The rules may have been simple, but for the vast majority of mankind—_all_ of mankind I would have said before coming to this school—the challenge was impossible. No bodily contact meant the only option was magic. And that meant that Evelyn must possess the same talent as England.

As soon as the thought entered my mind, an intricate magical pattern blossomed beneath Evelyn's feet and ruffled the hem of her dress with its emanating energy. Immediately following, England's magic circle appeared to rival hers. His was the same glowing purple I had seen before and hers was a bright golden orange. I had never seen magic beyond this stage and had no idea what to expect from either of these people.

"Hey China," I whispered as the competitors sized each other up. "Out of curiosity, just how skilled a sorceress is Miss Celtic Isles?"

He was busy applying some sort of salve to the wound on America's cheek and didn't look up as he answered. "She's fantastic, actually. But don't count England out. He was being very humble when he demonstrated for you in the Student Council room. It should be quite a contest."

Yet China didn't seem to care that he was missing it. I, on the other hand, was thrilled to be this close to the action and had to fold my legs under me to keep them from jittering uncontrollably.

Suddenly England thrust both hands in front of him and a sparkling jet of purple light shot across the circle towards his opponent. It was the first attack and Evelyn deftly dodged it—impressive in a dress—and launched one of her own, golden orange. It missed. Beams of energy were not going to suffice in this competition.

Evelyn lifted a hand over her head and swirled it in graceful loops until a quiet hum that I didn't even notice at first grew into a loud roar. I couldn't understand what was causing it until my hair and clothing started whipping about like boat sails in a tempest. She'd conjured a wild zephyr, and though the gusts reached us on the sidelines, it was obvious that the real power was concentrated within the playing area. England could barely maintain his footing and was starting to slide away towards the perimeter of the ring, the wind was so strong, while Evelyn stood unaffected in the eye of her own storm.

But the look of determination did not waver on England's windswept face. He dropped to a crouch and in front of my eyes a strange transfiguration occurred: England's hands swelled into the huge, hairy paws of a lion. Feet, too, became lion paws, splitting open his leather shoes and his claws dug into the stone, holding him fast. His jaw tightened as he aimed a venomous green glare at his opponent and the wind instantly died.

A growl of frustration escaped Evelyn's throat at having her spell undone, but the sound warped into a gasp of surprise as the stone under her feet cracked loudly apart and quick-growing vines crawled out like tentacles to ensnare her ankles. When the shock of it wore off, she let out a haughty laugh, even though the vines were now tangling around her arms, lifting her body off the ground.

"A beanstalk?" she asked in a condescending tone. "Is that all you can conjure up, _Jack_? A mere weed won't knock me out of this ring. Nor will the little plant he creates." She paused to chortle at her own joke and continued. "Let me show you how a fully matured spell-caster gets things done."

She grinned slyly and crackling flame coursed down the vines that bound her, turning them to ash—it was just like a cigarette being consumed all too quickly. The ash crumbled away and she was freed, but the fire didn't fizzle; it flared up and snaked across the circle towards England, thriving somehow without anything to feed it. This was, of course, magical fire and unburdened by nature's laws.

England waved his hand—restored to its human shape—over the flames and the encroaching edge hardened into spires of clear white ice, like crystal stalagmites. But it appeared he only could freeze the fire within arm's reach and the flames beyond that quickly advanced, climbed over his icy creations as if possessed of a sentient life force and turned them to steam. The faster England extinguished Evelyn's fire, the faster it was replenished.

"You can't fight fire with ice!" she declared over the hiss of flames, her voice so gleefully she was almost cackling like a classic witch. And before I'd thought she seemed like the calmest and sanest of the three Ancient ladies.

"Like Hell I can't!" England barked back. But from a distance it was clear that his tenacious words weren't backed up by the reality of his situation. Fire filled almost the entire circle now, save for the safe bubble that housed Evelyn and the tiny, shrinking patch where England was valiantly standing his ground. Whether he realized it or not, the fire had forced him closer and closer to the edge of the ring so that now he was just centimeters away from disqualification.

As I watched, it felt like my heart and my stomach were playing leapfrog with each other. I couldn't imagine what this must've been doing to America but I couldn't take my eyes off the scene to look down and get a clue. The sweat coating my face had nothing to do with the heat emanating from the fire.

"You know, from Yao's description, I expected more from you, child," Evelyn yelled to her opponent. "Of course I knew you wouldn't have the skills to beat me. But this is pathetic."

England's heels were at the red line and the unquenchable magic flames were at his toes. A part of me wanted to cover my eyes, or at least close them, but I could do neither. I had to keep watching. England would never let himself be swallowed by flames just so as not to give up. I just couldn't believe he'd treat his life so carelessly, not after chewing out America for the very same attitude. But he wasn't backing down.

A smirk twisted Evelyn's lips as the fire made her grey eyes flicker with red and orange, like a demon in Hell. "Perhaps your lackluster performance can be attributed to a distracted mind. After all, you did seem quite distraught over what happened to that gormless, Yankee, muggle."

The last three words came out like venom from a spitting cobra, and from the look they brought to England's face it was safe to say they'd hit their target.

"Excuse me?" he huffed, and the very breath he used to form the words snuffed out all the fire within three meters of him. His hands fisted at his sides. His spine straightened. And suddenly the purple design below his feet intensified in brightness until it shone pure white. Only now did I notice that the light it expelled was actually a billion little particles, magical ions that eddied around England's face and lifted his hair like the soft breast feathers of a ruffled hen.

The air stilled in my lungs. Was this the part where he decimated the entire stadium into rubble? I'd run out of expectations, but right now England looked capable of anything. Right now I wasn't sure if I was experiencing the match in real time or if my brain was slowing things down again.

Something was rising up from the glowing pattern on the floor, something with pointed ears and a long face. It was a white horse emerging fully formed from England's magic circle, right beneath him so that when the animal's body arose, the boy was already mounted bareback behind its withers.

There he was, the great magician Arthur on an enormous white mare that he had summoned and all the remaining flames died in their presence, as if giving up of their own will. The little floating atoms of magic were gathering at the horse's forehead and forming into… a horn. This was no horse that England rode, but a unicorn, a creature of pure imagination.

Evelyn's lower jaw hung open at the sight in front of her (a reaction I could certainly identify with).

England just glared down at her from his high perch, eyes narrowing in contempt as his voice came out as surely as a king's. "That boy just so happens to be _my_ gormless, Yankee, muggle. So. Kindly. Step. OFF!"

Right on the beat of "OFF," the unicorn reared up with a magnificent whinny and flailed her front hooves. And Evelyn flew like a ragdoll out of the ring. The momentum and trajectory of her flight should have crashed her into the empty seats at the far end of the stadium, but the inevitable collision didn't happen. A streak of brown and blond and a stretched shout of "Eve!" happened instead.

I blinked, rubbed my eyes, and blinked again. Crouched on the second bench up on the other side of the stadium was Germania, Leopold, and cradled in his arms was Evelyn, gasping to regain the breath that had been kicked out of her, but otherwise, apparently fine. He looked down at her like she was most precious treasure in the world, like he had absolutely no regrets over forfeiting his own event to catch her. And I realized then that he loved her.

A loud buzzer sounded and Alessandro swept back into the center of the arena. "Ancient Celtic Isles and Germania are both disqualified," he proclaimed. "Victories go to England and Japan."

There was half a moment of silence following the announcement and then an eruption of joy right behind me, which I spun around to witness. It was a standing ovation from the remaining members of the Student Council. Even Germany was on his feet and clapping, with Italy hanging off his shoulder and whooping in jubilation. "He did it! He did it! He did it! And Japan, too! Double win!"

France shouted, too. "Bravo Monsieur Eyebrows!" And Flower-Egg howled excitedly.

The center of my chest felt so warm and the corners of my mouth pulled up into an uncontrollable smile of gratitude. Nobody had forced any of them to participate, to help me save Su-san, but they chose to anyways and we were all sharing in each victory and defeat. They cared.

My eyes went back out to England and watched as his unicorn mount dissipated into those little flecks of magic and faded to nothing and he was deposited back onto his feet. He looked so regal and proud. Japan had climbed down from his platform and the two winners exchanged a quick, respectful nod, but I could tell by the way he looked in this direction that England was really only interested in one person right now. He walked over with long, purposeful strides.

"Well then, what did you think Al…fred…?" His voice bloomed and wilted in the time it took him to arrive and look down at America. When I looked down as well I realized why. On his stretcher right next to me, America was fast asleep and snoring. "How… how long has he been out?" England asked in an exasperated squeak.

"Pretty much since your match began," China sighed. "Those were some powerful painkillers he took."

England's face puckered in hurt for a moment. He frowned severely at the snoring boy who had missed his moment of glory. And then his face softened into the gentlest smile I'd ever seen on him. "Idiot," he said softly, but it was without a trace of derision; he said the word lovingly. "Alright, China, I suppose we should take him to the infirmary."

China and England lifted America's stretcher and he didn't even stir, just made a small grunt in his sleep and then kept on snoring. Before they started to move with him, though, I took the opportunity to look directly into England's eyes and tell him, "Thank you." I gulped once and went on. "I… I'm very sorry that your… that America got hurt. I never meant…"

"Finland," he kindly but firmly interrupted. "It wasn't your fault. If any one of us weren't willing to put himself on the line, he wouldn't have agreed to participate. That includes Alfred and myself." He paused to let out a sigh. "I'm just sorry that I cannot do any more from here on. Right now we can only put our hopes on Russia's strong shoulders. If he wins, the contest is ours."

"Right," I said, trying not to show that his reminder had suddenly dropped a bucket of jagged rocks into my stomach. "And you just take care of that guy, okay?"

He nodded to me like a proper English gentleman and then he and China and America were on their way.

With no reason left to stay on the sidelines, I climbed the few stairs back to my spot amongst my teammates and sat down. Now I was the one who was shaking. England was right; he and Japan had given us two more wins, a total of three, and that meant that one more would secure the Seven Stars and Seven Arrows needed to set Su-san free. But it was Russia versus Torvald. It was Russia's ridiculously strong, axe-bending body versus Su-san's, innocent and all too human.

A glance over at Russia provided no solace; the hulking teenager was eyeing his competition across the aisle like a hungry bear watches a deer. And no matter what my feeling were for the deer, I had to root for the bear.

It wasn't rocks in belly now, it was red-hot chunks of coal, searing my insides like Evelyn's unquenchable fire and turning the breath in my lungs to choking steam. I was shifting into full panic mode and I didn't have China's reassuring presence to bring me back down.

Su-san was going to get hurt, no question about it. If only… if only Russia could beat him without hurting him. But if this really was a physical fight, it was impossible. Torvald would never surrender. Never. If only Su-san was in control of his own body. He'd know to let Russia win.

The thought sent a cold shudder of excitement through my nervous system. It was ridiculous. It was risky. It was almost certainly impossible. But it was the only idea I had to protect Su-san's body. The chilling thrill of this idiotic plan was dueling with the scorching fear inside me, just like a microcosm of England's fight. Before I could make a decision on what to do, however, Alessandro's voice rang out from center stage.

"The overall score is two to three in favor of the Student Council," he announced, not letting any personal bias affect his jovial tone. "Which brings us to the sixth match of the day, Ancient Scandinavia versus Russia. The contestants will please come forward."

Torvald stood. Russia stood. And, acting on impulses that my conscious brain hadn't officially sanctioned, I stood. I stood and faced Russia, the most terrifying teenager I had ever encountered, and my hands reached out to grasp the front of his jacket and my eyes starred into his. Even though I had planned no part of this in advance, the words flowed from my mouth as if I had been rehearsing them all morning.

"Russia, please listen to me. I have a very strong feeling that this is going to be a real, hand-to-hand fight. I know this is going to sound crazy, but if you are fighting Ancient Scandinavia and you see his eyes change from dark blue to aquamarine, pull back. Stop hurting him and let him surrender to you. He will. If the real Sweden temporarily can regain control he will let you win. Can you do that?"

His coolly carnivorous violet eyes blinked at me as if I were a madman, which is probably what I looked like at that moment. "Da," he said in a deep, calm voice. "If the eyes turn aquamarine I will allow him to surrender without further injury." Then he patted me on the head with an enormous hand and continued down to the arena.

Torvald was moving, too, but his direction was not towards the floor; it was towards me. He stopped in front of me and I looked down, refusing to meet his eye. I couldn't reveal even a hint of my crazy plan to him.

"You should wish me luck, like a good wife," he said, gripping the end of my chin and forcing my face upwards.

I opened my eyes—because keeping them closed at this point would only make me look frightened of him—and glared. "My only wish is that Su-san's body isn't hurt too badly when Russia kicks your ass," I hissed.

He smirked in a devious way that ill befit Su-san's handsome face. "You continue to amuse me, my pretty Astrid," he purred. "I will be sure to win for you." And without saying another word, without allowing me to say another word, he relinquished my face, turned and walked down the steps.

I stayed awkwardly on my feet, afraid that sitting would make me too comfortable, as I watched the two take their places on either side of Alessandro.

"The rules of the game are as follows," he boomed. "The two of you will battle each other bare-fisted. No weapons. No use of teeth or nails. No hits to the groin area. If either competitor goes down and stays down for a count of ten, he will be disqualified and the other shall be declared the winner. There is no time limit. Are the rules understood?"

"I understand," said Torvald.

Russia had unwound his scarf while Alessandro explained the rules and was now undoing the last button of his long coat. "Da," he said. Then he shrugged out of the coat to reveal a snug white tank top clinging to an upper body befitting an Olympic gymnast.

I wasn't going to have time to spare. I had to figure out how to draw out Su-san fast.

"Alright then," said Alessandro, hurrying off to the sidelines. "Let the match begin."

To be continued…


	15. Chapter 14

Free Talk: To those who have been waiting on this, thank you for being so patient. My life is kind of a mess right now, but I am still working on this story, albeit at a snail's pace. Now I am kind of worried that I have been working on this for so long that I am starting to lose my touch. Make that _very_ worried. I don't know why, but I fear this chapter won't live up to previous ones and that readers won't think it was worth the wait. Even if it is not the best chapter yet, though, I hope it is at least enjoyable. There are only two or three chapters left to go, so I want to wrap everything up satisfactorily. I really appreciate all the wonderful support I have gotten. Thank you! Please tell me what you think of the chapter.

**Outcast**  
By Angelsaurus

Chapter 14

Russia had a baby face, the kind with soft, doughy cheeks and such a mild smile. It made it all the more disconcerting to see the sharp glint of sadistic intent in his violet eyes as he circled the entity that was Torvald in Su-san's body. Not that Torvald wasn't himself utterly menacing; with his lips drawn back over fiercely clenched white teeth he looked even more like a bloodthirsty Viking than his likeness in paint did.

It was true that the real Su-san, Berwald Oxenstierna, had an imposing, almost frightening presence, but I was never actually scared of him. When I was with Berwald I felt safer than I ever had in my life. Torvald in war mode, on the other hand, terrified me down to the marrow inside my bones. It was surreal how despite this body and this face being rightfully Su-san's, I could no longer see Su-san within them. The transformation was complete and now I was left with a dilemma: How could I ever hope to draw to the surface a boy I couldn't even find?

No time to think about it, the fighting commenced when Russia launched a tight fist at Torvald's face but was blocked by a forearm, which, to my double-blinking surprise, didn't shatter. Maybe Su-san's body was built from tougher stuff than I acknowledged. In retaliation, Torvald's buckskin-covered leg swung out and crashed into Russia's hip, causing him to stagger sideways a step. Whether or not it had caused any real pain, I didn't know, but the fact that the attack actually made Russia stumble was enough to impress me.

Then, issuing a growl so loud we could hear it in the stands, Russia landed a vicious punch to Torvald's torso that folded him and half and squeezed a wheezy cough from his lungs. I concluded that the only way that didn't crack a rib was if Su-san's skeleton was made of titanium.

But neither gladiator let the first blows hinder him. They circled again, like two territorial tigers, until Torvald struck suddenly with a right-left combo to Russia's face that loosed a splatter of red and elicited gasps of horror from the audience. My heart thudded out an agitated rhythm. When Torvald's fists pulled back I saw that he'd smashed Russia's handsome nose so badly that it now pointed sharply to the left. Blood was oozing down from both nostrils, over his lip and into his mouth, but he didn't seem to care, or maybe didn't even notice. He countered with a direct hit to the corner of Torvald's jaw that made his head spin and coupled the action with a boisterous baritone laugh.

"You are feisty, da?" Russia asked as he grasped his broken nose between his thumb and forefinger and bent it back towards center without even cringing. His tongue flicked, lizard-like, over his bloody lips and the taste made his eyes even more excited. The up-close, slow motion replay on the screen was almost too horrific to watch. But of course I did anyways.

Dammit! I was wasting time getting caught up in the fight; I had to think! _Think, Tino! Think!_ Blood was already being spilled and I had no idea how I was going to pull off my maneuver. I squeezed my eyes shut, but I could still hear the fight: the shuffling of boots, the packing sounds of knuckles on firmly muscled flesh, and the shouts and cries and whoops from the audience. So I covered my ears with tightly fisted hands.

Shutting out the noises from outside intensified the noises from inside; each beat of my heart, each pulse of blood through my arteries, was like the boom of a passing bullet train. I had to fight all distractions!

How was I going to break Su-san out of the glass mouse cage that Torvald described? I thought back to the other times when I'd seen control of his body switch over. Twice I was witness to Torvald awakening and overpowering Su-san and both times I'd had a significant, albeit unintentional, role in the transformation. But the only time that Su-san reclaimed control in my presence occurred while he was feverishly asleep.

I recalled China's explanation, that Su-san's soaring body temperature and comatose state were because he was fighting Torvald for control. It had been an internal battle and Su-san had won it. But how? What could have given him the strength to overcome and was there any way I could remind him of it?

The crowd emitted a collective gasp loud enough to get through my hands and into my ears and my eyes shot open just in time to see Russia turn his head and spit out what I am quite sure was a tooth, along with a good deal of blood. I couldn't help wondering how much he'd already lost from his broken nose; the front of his white shirt was now spattered with red and it appeared to still be flowing. And yet Russia was still throwing punches, undaunted by these injuries.

Torvald was faring better, at least in terms of visible damage, as he ducked and weaved expertly. He seemed to have a more conservative fighting style than Russia, striking only when saw an opening, and it was working to his advantage.

The thought flitted through my brain that I could just let Torvald trounce him. They may not have mentioned it specifically, but I was sure the actual rules of the event assumed that members of the audience weren't supposed to interfere. If Torvald won fair and square, I would face China. Is that what I was really afraid of? Was I just selfishly hoping to avoid having to fight my part?

A _whoosh_ and a _wham_, Russia's right combat boot slamming into Torvald/Su-san's side, interjected my thought. No, it wasn't about my fear of competing against China. I had to end this fight because two boys were getting hurt. Russia was just as innocent as Su-san, and even though he gave the impression of having a body of stone, he was still a mere human and felt pain just like anyone else. Damn, that busted nose had to be excruciating; I winced at the thought.

I had to get through to Su-san, to Berwald, the boy I was only just beginning to know but felt a longing for that I wanted so desperately to believe was more than infatuation. There was no time to waste pondering how.

I leapt up to my feet instinctually, jumped up on my seat, and cupped my hands on the sides of my mouth. Then I sucked in as much air as my lungs would hold and used every molecule of it to push out one great shout.

"BERWALD!"

The other members of the audience, Student Council and Founders' Guild alike, momentarily diverted their attentions to me and I could feel their eyes on me, prickling my skin. But the warriors kept circling, kept flinging arms and legs at each other and landing skeleton-shaking hits.

I had to keep shouting. Louder. LOUDER.

"Berwald, It's Tino! I know you can hear me! You're in there, Berwald, trapped in your own body. Right now you are looking out through your eyes and watching as your hands beat another boy senseless. And through your ears you can hear the sounds of your fists hitting him but you are powerless to stop it. You're trapped, Berwald, I know!"

Yes, he was trapped. What made me think that yelling to him would make any difference? If there were any way that he could break free, he would done it have already, right?

But the words kept flowing. A part of me, a very small part, wondered if Alessandro or the other Founders would catch on to what I was attempting and construe it as cheating, but that part was overruled by my need to end this fight. So I kept on yelling.

"If it wasn't impossible, I know you would have overpowered Torvald on your own! But… but there has to be a way, Berwald!"

And as I shouted in what felt like futility, something strange began to happen. Torvald's shoulders lifted and he lunged at Russia more violently than ever, pummeling him in the stomach over and over with left and right fists. Russia reeled backwards, stunned at the increased aggression, but Torvald pursued mercilessly, landing punch after brutal punch on Russia's strong body and leaving no openings for retaliation.

It was as if my pleas to Su-san were spurring him to fight even more viciously, like a teased animal.

"Berwald, you can overcome his control! I know you can!" I had to get through before Russia was beaten to death. "He hates you! Torvald hates you and can't stand the idea of you being happy! But you are stronger than he is! Even when he destroyed everything that you love, over and over, you kept going, kept living, because you are just that amazing!"

My head shook as I yelled and I felt something warm drop onto my hand, which was tightly balled in front of me. I looked down and blinked at the clear, glistening drop there, a tear, and when I trailed my fingertips over my cheek I was shocked to find it completely glazed. When did I start crying?

But almost as soon as I'd discovered the tears flowing down my face, the emotions that subconsciously triggered them washed over me like an enormous tidal wave. My throat suddenly felt sore and raw and my heart felt like it was being gripped in a massive, clawed hand. My deep longing and admiration for Su-san twisted around my fury towards Torvald into a complex knot in my belly.

"He killed your parents!" I snarled, my voice starting to warp into sobs at the edges. "He murdered them! He murdered Maren and poisoned Søren's heart towards you! The two of you should have been like brothers! Just like brothers! But Torvald ruined it! He killed the boy who was Finland before me! You have to put him in his place! For all of them! And…"

For the first time during my outburst, the words played in my head before spilling from my mouth and they made a portion of the tight pain in my chest melt into a warm, beautiful ache that filled my whole body.

"And you have to because I can't lose you, Berwald! I've only just found you and there is still so much I want to do together!" These feeling were selfish, I knew it, but I had to share them anyways; they were the only argument I had left. "I want to find out what your favorite food is and make it with you! I want to find out your favorite book and read it so we can talk about it! I want you to come home to Finland with me and meet my mom and dad!"

Each sentence I choked out through my tear-clogged senses was punctuated by one of Torvald's fists pounding Russia's massive body so hard it quaked.

"I… I want us to become like they are! Like my parents! Like England and America! And like Leopold and Evelyn! You have to regain control of your body and end this fight so that I can spend each day with you and love you more and more!"

I was shaking like the last leaf on a tree caught in a winter gale. My pleas weren't helping Su-san. And now Torvald had Russia, too worn out to fight back anymore, trapped against the stone tower that Japan had won his event atop. He drew back his arm and aimed his knuckles to smash Russia's skull against solid stone. Oh god, I couldn't watch! Was this what all my shouting had led to? I collapsed to my knees, emotionally spent, my sobs silent and dry as I had used up my full supply of tears. For no other reason but to drown out the sound of Torvald's finishing blow, I let out one last long cry of Berwald's name.

"Berwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaald!"

With my eyes squeezed shut, I didn't see the actual impact, but I heard the audience react to it with gasps prolonged enough and loud enough that my yell couldn't cover them completely. This was a clamor beyond any so far. What just happened? I bolted upright, eyes stretched open wide on the pair by the tower, but what I saw wasn't a grisly scene of Russia's head cracked open like an egg. He'd twisted away just in time and Torvald's fist had collided with nothing but rock, burying itself in up to the wrist.

That must have been one hell of a punch!

But something was wrong. Why wasn't Torvald moving? He just stood there, arm outstretched in front of him, hand lodged in the stone tower. Was he stuck? That didn't seem possible; if he was strong enough to punch his hand into a wall he should he able to get it out with no problem. He wasn't in a rage anymore, either. It was like he was frozen in place. But I couldn't see his face for any clues as to why.

My eyes darted up to display screen, desperate for an answer, and the close up that greeted me made my heart leap for joy.

"Su-san!" The sight of those bright, blue-green eyes made me shout out his nickname like an exaltation up to heaven. He did it! Berwald took back control of his body! Now it was just a matter of him regaining his composure—at the moment, he looked completely stunned at being back in the driver's seat and possibly a bit disoriented by the absence of his glasses—and giving up the match to Russia.

I watched the screen with a grin so wide it must have touched my ears on either side, waiting for Su-san to snap to it and forfeit for the sake of his own salvation. Had Russia noticed the change yet? I flicked my gaze over to him, to see how he was holding up, and my breath hitched in my throat.

Something was very, very wrong.

Russia's eyes had changed too, from violet to an inhuman shade of magenta and his pupils were nothing more than black pinpricks. He looked like a monster out of my worst childhood nightmares. His nostrils, ringed with dark, thickening blood, flared. His lips, swollen and fissured, curled back from his teeth. What was happening to him? And what was he going to do to Su-san now?

An uppercut to the stomach so powerful it lifted Su-san's feet off the ground answered my second question. He doubled over and vomited onto the floor, lurched, but didn't fall over. Russia didn't give him any time to recover; a fresh volley of punches came before Su-san could even stand up straight. There was absolutely no way Russia was going to step back and allow him to surrender.

"What… what is Russia doing?" I sputtered in horror.

"He's winning is what he's doing," Germany said in a surprisingly cocky voice. "I don't know what all that yelling you did was supposed to accomplish or if it had anything to do with this turnaround, but it looks like this fight is about to be over."

_No. No. No. No. No._ "He's not going to stop when he wins!" I said so squeakily that I knew neither Germany nor anyone else heard me. "Russia is going to kill Su-san!" As I said it—croaked it, really—I knew that it was absolutely true. I'd never seen a human being look the way that Russia did right now and I could feel in the pit of my stomach that he wouldn't relent until Su-san was dead.

Every muscle in my body felt like it had just seized up. I was paralyzed.

"It's the Blood Rage."

I turned to the ghostly, familiar voice (apparently not paralyzed after all), and saw China standing on the stairs between the two seating sections.

Immediately, I jumped up and grabbed the sleeve of his red silk jacket. "Blood Rage? What's Blood Rage? You know what's wrong with Russia?"

China remained as still as the terra cotta soldier in his bedroom, and yet he seemed somehow insubstantial, like a strong gust of wind could dissipate him into dust at any moment. His eyes didn't turn to meet mine and that terrified me more than anything. China was supposed to be my rock, the unflappable one who could reassure me that everything would be okay with nothing more than a look. And here he was, pale as paper, staring out at the arena and looking downright _frightened_. China wasn't supposed to get frightened by anything.

"I've only actually seen it once before in my lifetime," he answered, still without looking at me. "But I have read about it in ancient texts. Blood Rage is an exceedingly rare condition exclusive to a very few Eastern European bloodlines. But it was believed to have died out in the eighteenth century. I never thought that Ivan, or anyone else at this school, could be afflicted."

Well, I couldn't fault him for not considering the possibility of something he'd only seen once in his five hundred-year lifetime. "But what does it mean?" I asked in a panic. "How do we stop it?"

"Blood Rage is a neurological condition that in earlier centuries was attributed to demonic possession." China's explanation was rote and clinical, but his voice had an almost imperceptible tremor; he was making a concerted effort not to show emotion. "It means his brain has been temporarily rewired. The rational, thinking part has completely shut down and the only non-basic function he is capable of is violence. The only thing he feels is rage."

"But is there any way to stop it?" I squawked.

"He won't snap out of it until he kills his target or is knocked unconscious. And the latter will be an uphill battle. When possessed by the Blood Rage a human's stamina and physical strength can increase as much as tenfold. Even Torvald, by far the strongest of the Founders' Guild should have difficulty defending himself. But what I don't understand is why he doesn't seem to be fighting back at all. That is not like Torvald."

"Because it isn't him!" The words exploded from my mouth, laced with terror and guilt. "It isn't Torvald that's controlling Su-san's body right now! It… it's Su-san!"

"What?" China said sharply as he spun around. Finally, he was granting me the eye contact I'd been craving, but it didn't supply any comfort; the fear I'd detected in his voice was now painted starkly on his face.

"L-look at his eyes!" I sputtered. "It's Su-san!"

China turned his gaze back to the arena floor for a split second to confirm, but I was pretty sure he already believed me. "How did this happen?" he urgently asked when he was looking at me once again.

"I…" My voice cracked when I tried to speak. "I did it… I think. I mean, I was yelling to Su-san, trying to encourage him and help him regain control of his body. Then he could just surrender to Russia and this would all be done with. I know it was cheating but…!" My guilt over trying to cheat was completely dwarfed by the crushing guilt over accidentally putting Su-san's life in mortal peril, but it gave me an idea and I grabbed the front of China's Jacket in both fists. "Shouldn't that disqualify our side?" I asked, bobbing my head hopefully. "I cheated so the match should be called off and Torvald declared the winner by default, right? Right?"

"There is nothing in the rules against shouting encouragement," he said gravely. "According to the rules, the fight must continue. And even if there were solid grounds to end the match, all of us Founders together might find it impossible to stop Russia in this state. We are all very strong by human standards, but only Torvald is blessed with the physical strength of a god."

I felt the blood in my veins run ice cold as the realization struck me what I would have to do. The only one who could save Su-san from the disaster I'd caused was the only person in the world I truly hated. And I was the only one who could call him out. There wasn't any time to think about the decision; in a complete reversal of fortunes, Su-san was now backed against the same tower that Russia had been pinned to just minutes ago.

"Torvald! Get off your butt and help him!" I screamed, hands around my mouth once again. "If he dies, you die, and what kind of thoughtless husband would let himself be killed right in front of his wife's eyes?" The words tasted bitter on their escape over my tongue; I hated to play into that psycho's delusion that I was his reincarnated wife, but it was my only hope. Su-san's only hope. "You have to fight, Torvald! For me! For your Astrid!"

Like a replay with the starring roles switched, Su-san flattened himself against the stone tower about to be brained by Russia's fist. Oh god, this couldn't be happening. It couldn't end like this.

There was a split second, when Russia's arm was pulled back but had yet to launch, in which the arena fell as silent as a tomb and I caught a glimpse of the terror in Su-san's eyes. Their glistening surfaces reflected the clouded, crimson madness of Russia's. All I could do now was pray that, just like in the earlier set-up, the prey would wriggle free in the nick of time.

No! I would do more than that! My role was still the same; it was just a different name I had to yell.

"Torvaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaald!"

It was a war cry that grew into a roar like thunder as it tore from my throat and blended with the sound of Russia's knuckles smashing into stone.

Stone.

Not Su-san's skull.

Yes! The attack missed!

But all it took was the span of a blink for Su-san—no, Torvald now, it had to be—to have Russia's throat gripped in his hand. Those crimson eyes bulged as Torvald's fingers dug in beneath his jaw, lifted him in the air so that his boots dangled helplessly above the floor. Incredibly, Torvald had strength enough to immobilize Russia in the midst of his Blood Rage. But it didn't look like it was going to end at immobilization.

Good god! Could neither of these two defeat the other in a fight without murdering him?

With a guttural snarl, Torvald slammed Russia's back against the tower, shoved his skull roughly against the stone bricks. It made the tower shake and emit a low groan. Those two super-strength punches it had absorbed must have done some internal damage, but I didn't realize just how much until I saw a menacing black crack snaking its way up from the fist-sized crater just centimeters away from Russia's head. The low groan was growing into a loud rumble and bits of rock were starting to hail down onto the arena floor.

"Sacrebleu!" France exclaimed. "Ze tower iz going to fall!"

I hadn't noticed it until I heard him, but the tower of stone was swaying. As the crack spread, it had forked into two that encircled the entire girth of the structure and now everything above the fissure line was tottering, threatening to topple. My heart felt like some small, helpless creature, paralyzed with fear inside the cage of my chest as I watched. Which way would it fall, towards us in the audience or away?

While the others jumped from their seats and scattered, I stayed rooted to the spot where I stood. Even when China pulled on my arm, I didn't budge. Su-san was still standing at the base of the tower where Torvald was holding him and Russia hostage. No matter which way the tower fell, he was in the danger zone.

All of the sudden a crazy urge took hold of me. I shook my arm free of China's grasp and with a gush of adrenaline vaulted the barrier that separated competitors from spectators. My landing was too hard to hit the ground running and in the half-second pause before I could rush forward, the tower fell.

On news programs, when witnesses to disasters are interviewed, they always say that it was nothing like in the movies. But as I stared, mouth agape, at the falling stone structure, I couldn't disagree more; I felt just like a character in special effects laden summer blockbuster. But it was absolutely real. The tower careened away from the audience and fell against its twin on the opposite side of the arena with a thunderous crash.

And now both towers were falling.

The matched set came down too fast for me to do anything more than drop to the ground in a defensive curl. But it's not as if anything I might have done could've changed the outcome. I couldn't have saved Su-san from being crushed beneath the deluge of stone no matter how quick I was. The thought didn't occur to me that I was in just as much danger as he was until I was already folded into a tight ball.

The sound was a long, deafening roar. The feel was an earthquake from below and a hail of shrapnel from above. I stayed in my tight curl until the rumbling ceased and when I opened my eyes I saw nothing. The collapse of the two towers had filled the entire stadium with an impenetrable, choking cloud of dust that clogged my lungs when I tried to breath and made me cough violently. From the sounds emerging around me—sound was all I had as there was absolutely no visual further than five centimeters in front of my eyes—everyone else was having the same reaction.

But even as my chest shook painfully and I gasped for any air I could get, all I could think about was Su-san. Was he alive? Had he somehow managed to survive like I had? I needed to see him but I couldn't. I needed to run to him but I couldn't even find my feet. I couldn't scream his name.

As I tucked my nose and mouth into the neck hole of my shirt, lungs on fire, scratchy eyes trying desperately to make tears, I felt something wet touch the back of my neck and my arms. And then it was everywhere. It was raining. But of course, being deep under the earth I knew it couldn't really be raining. Someone had turned on a sprinkler system I wasn't even aware of until now and it was starting to wash away the fog of filth.

The air all around slowly became clearer and my skin and clothes became coated with a grimy mix of dust and water. Through the artificial rain I could finally make out the forms of two warriors amidst the piled up chunks of dripping rubble. Sweden's body was straddling Russia's, which was lying prostrate on the floor, and both his fists were pummeling Russia's face without mercy. Berwald was alive, but he clearly was not in control of his body. And what about Russia? Was he…?

The fallen giant lifted his arm and relief swept through me; he wasn't dead. But there wasn't enough strength in him to push Torvald off or even to keep his arm aloft. It fell back limp at his side and I realized that it was a gesture of surrender.

"The winner of this match is Ancient Scandinavia!" Alessandro's voice boomed over the hiss of the sprinklers. The fight had continued through the chaos only to end by one man's fists, just as the rules intended.

But Torvald didn't stop; he kept slamming his knuckles into Russia's face. Each strike sounded like a hammer hitting a side of raw meat. Each strike felt like it was landing on the center of my own chest.

"Please, cease your attack!" Though he was obviously trying to be a calm voice of reason, there was a distinct edge of horror in Alessandro's bellow. "Ancient Scandinavia, the match has ended! Step away from your opponent or you will be physically removed!"

I could tell from tone that the threat was not an idle one, but my memories of what China said, that only Torvald had supernatural strength, gave the words and undercurrent of futility to my ears. Alessandro and the other Founders trying to tear Torvald away from Russia would just be an opportunity for them to be needlessly hurt as well. I heard distant shoes start to move, but the footfalls right beneath me, my own, soon drowned out the sound. I was up and running towards Torvald and Russia before I realized that the reason was because I was the one who had to stop him.

The ruins of the two towers were coiled around the pair like twin snakes, as if the structures had willfully chosen to leave them untouched so that their fight could go uninterrupted. I scrambled over the wall of wet rocks, fast and clumsy with desperation, and as Torvald drew back Su-san's left fist to deliver yet another punch, I grabbed his elbow with both hands and cried out.

"Stop this! Torvald, stop this fighting now!"

He froze in place, as if my voice had momentarily transformed him into a statue, and then he turned his head slowly towards me. His eyes were bottomless pits of ultramarine, the pupils reduced to pinpoints. His nostrils were flared and his chest heaving. In this state, splattered head to toe in blood, some of it his own but most of it Russia's, he barely seemed human.

But as he stared at me, lucidity began to flow back into him; his eyes dilated and his breathing slowed. His shoulders relaxed.

"Astrid?" he asked in a breath.

I shook my head. "No. Tino."

And suddenly he was Su-san again. His eyes flashed to their beautiful aquamarine and blinked in confusion at me. Then he looked down at Russia, collapsed beneath him, and horror leapt onto his face. His gaze darted between the bloodied, beaten face and his own red stained hands and I could tell that he'd witnessed what happened.

"I…" he uttered through a quivering jaw.

"No!" I yelled at him. "You didn't do this!" But it didn't seem to console him; the horror didn't leave his face.

"Is he… dead?"

I had to stoop down and watch Russia's chest slowly rise and fall before I could answer the question. "He's still alive," I said in as reassuring a tone as I could manage, though my insides squirmed at the thought of how bad his injuries were. "Torvald didn't murder him. And you, Berwald, did _nothing_ wrong."

The rushing sound of water fell away as the sprinklers shut off and the quiet it left threw all other noises into sharp contrast. Alessandro's feet stopped a few meters away. The remaining members of the audience continued to cough intermittently. Russia's breathing was labored. Su-san and I were both silent.

He'd never looked so vulnerable to me as he did now, still on his knees, covered in blood and sweat and water and grit, staring hopelessly at destruction his body had wrought. One more time, he turned to look at me.

"I'm sorry," was all he managed to utter before the lids of his eyes fell closed and he pitched forward.

I caught him, and when I did I could feel that his skin was already blazing hot. The war within was raging once more.

Although his weight was slowly dragging me to the ground and the heat from his body was scorching, I didn't want to stop holding Su-san and felt a small twitch of resentment when Alessandro lifted him off of me and eased him onto the floor, on his back next to Russia. It was necessary, of course.

"That boy is on fire," Alessandro gasped, and I wondered how much of the situation China had explained to him.

"What is the damage?" China's voice asked, low, serious, and right on cue. I hadn't heard his arrival as I had Alessandro's, but here he was, pushing past his larger colleague with a strange, unspoken authority. When his eyes fell on Russia, his mouth set into a hard line.

"He's been beaten unconscious," I croaked. "But he's alive. He… he's going to be okay, right?" No matter how frightening I'd found him when he was awake and alert, it was impossible not to be scared for Russia—China had called him Ivan, I think—in his current condition. His nose was smashed to the side again, his eyes both swollen closed, his jaw was obviously broken, and his platinum hair was glued around his face with blood from seen and unseen wounds. I'd never seen a human being ravaged to the point where his face was no longer recognizable, and never would have thought it possible to live through such injuries.

"He needs to be taken to the infirmary right away," said China, squatting at Russia's side and pinching his wrist for a pulse. "He is lucky to be alive, but he might have a serious brain injury. We won't know the full extent of the damage until he wakes up. And hopefully he will."

The last sentence left me cold. Russia might not ever wake up? No! It wasn't supposed to be like this. Nobody was supposed to get hurt. Not Russia. Not Su-san. Not America. Not even Germany's paper cut should've happened. If blood had to be spilled, it should have been mine alone.

_There's still time for that_, a little dark voice inside my head hissed.

It was true; because Torvald had won his fight, I had to face China, and, as the events had been growing progressively more gruesome, I knew I could expect something violent. Right now, however, Su-san's welfare took precedence over all my other worries. I settled onto my knees by his sleeping head and pressed my palm against his cheek.

"He's in the fevered state again," I said anxiously, without taking my eyes from him. "He needs medicine to cool him down. An ice bath maybe."

"We will do all we can for him," said China and it sounded almost like a sigh. There was an unsettling absence of hope in his voice so subtle that someone less primed to it than I was would not likely perceive it.

At some point during the assessment, the other member of the Founders' Guild and Student Council had floated down from the places they'd sought refuge during the calamity and now they flocked around the scene, their eyes heavy with concern in their dirty faces.

"Ze poor fellow's face looks like a Picasso painting," France said, a lighthearted comment but weighted with enough sympathy to make it acceptable.

I heard Italy let out a whimper, and from his previous behavior I surmised that he was probably clinging to Germany's arm, but I didn't look away from Su-san to confirm it. At that moment, the air all around me felt thick and my body felt heavy, like I was a lead plumb sunk to the bottom of a bucket of glue, unable and unmotivated to move. Su-san and Russia both needed immediate medical care, but I wanted time to suspend, just for a few minutes, so that I could collect my bearings right where I was.

But time doesn't wait, and neither did China. "France, Germany, Italy, Japan," he said firmly. "You will find a stretcher in hatch just below where we were all seated. Use it to transport Russia to the Founders' infirmary. Alessandro, Leopold, Helena, and Amunet will be taking Sweden there, so you may follow them."

Heads bobbed in complacency all around. Nobody questioned his instructions or why eight healthy bodies were required to transport just two injured, they just did what they were told. I swallowed what felt like a rock in my throat as Alessandro hoisted Sweden's limp body up and over his shoulder. At last my eyes sought out a new target.

"I want to go with him," I told China, staring intently at his face. "I need to be wherever Su-san is."

China closed his long eyes and shook his head. "You and I must prepare for the final round of competition."

"But…!" I blurted out, and he silenced me with a lifted hand.

"Sweden will be well cared for in your absence," he said. "And you will be reunited with him when the match is over, no matter what the outcome is."

I knew that these words were the most consolation China could give me under the circumstances. He was bound by the rules of the contest just as I was and he knew that any argument I made would be futile; this was him trying to keep me calm enough to compete. But I couldn't imagine how I was going to concentrate on any sort of competition when Su-san was fighting to survive somewhere far from my sight.

And Su-san needed me to win.

It took all four unscathed members of the Student Council to carry Russia on his stretcher—one at each corner—but it only took Alessandro to carry Su-san like a rag doll over his shoulder. I had to wonder why China had charged the entire Founders' Guild, excluding himself, with the task; his motives were as obscure as always.

As the two groups started transport the two invalids to the exit, one member of the Founders' Guild broke off and came to speak to me and China. It was Evelyn, the embodiment of the Ancient Celtic Isles, who, despite being just as filthy as the rest of us, still managed to be stunningly beautiful. Her face bore no specific expression—perhaps the look of wounded pride I'd seen after her defeat had been neutralized by the latest victory for her side—and her arms were crossed over the front of her ruined green dress, not defiantly but cautiously.

"Yao, Finland," she said. "Because of the condition of the stadium, your event will take place in the receiving room. The two of you may go there and wait for us. The rest of the Founders' Guild will meet you there."

I was about to ask her if the remaining members of the Student Council would also be join us, but she turned on heel and joined her colleagues so quickly that I didn't have time. Maybe China could answer the question for me. If he didn't, I would find out soon on my own.

I held in my breath while I watched Su-san being carried away, afraid that if I let out that air in my body the emotions I was keeping caged would spill out uncontrollably with it. When it was just me and China left I released my breath as a sigh of relief; I made it through the separation without an outburst and that made me feel a little bit stronger.

The brief window of time after the others had left but before China spoke and got us moving provided me an opportunity to take in the damage that had been done. Although the larger rubble was confined almost entirely to the arena floor, the dust had reached all the way to the far seats and combined with the sprinkler water to leave everything coated in muck. It was amazing that nobody had been hurt, but it was obviously going to take a lot of work to clean it all up.

"I, uh, I'm sorry about what happened to your stadium," I told China sheepishly.

He shook his head with closed, tranquil eyes. "It is a risk we took into account when formulating these events," he said. "There is no need for you to apologize." He paused and opened his eyes, revealing a face that wasn't his cool and detached usual. The remorse was sincere. "I do feel that I need to apologize to you, however. Although we considered the risks involved, none of us expected anyone to be hurt as seriously as America and Russia and Sweden were. For that, I am very regretful."

I wetted my lips cautiously but my response came out on an impulse. "Don't forget to tell that to them," I said, and embarrassment immediately oozed into my chest. Who was I to be giving instructions to someone as old and wise as China?

My eyes sought his apologetically. He didn't look upset or offended but surprised, blinking his dark eyes at me. Then his face softened into the gentle smile that was comforting and familiar to me.

"I will," he said with a nod. "Now, let us walk together to the receiving room."

"Alright," I said. "You lead the way."

I followed China out of the arena—while he navigated the rubble as silently and gracefully as a mountain lion, I stumbled and slipped and almost lost my balance several times—and I didn't say another word until we were back in the elegant hallways of the Saint Hetalia underground.

"So, uh, I don't suppose you have any ideas as to what this event might be, do you?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the framed artwork that adorned the walls.

"I'm afraid I know as little as you do, Finland," he replied. "The years have taught us how to be very tight-lipped and none of my fellow Founders' have let anything slip."

I swallowed nervously and tried to keep a breezy tone. "You don't think it's anything violent though, right?"

China let out a small chuckle that helped ease my mind. "I don't think so. A violent competition would not play to either of our strengths. Rest assured that this task is one that will put both of us on equal footing." He paused and then added, "And try to have a little more faith in yourself. You are very competent Tino Väinämöinen. That being said…"

The end of his pep talk was left unsaid; we reached a door at the end of the labyrinth of halls and he gave his attention to opening it and letting me enter before him. I opened my mouth to ask him what he was about to say, but the déjà vu upon stepping into the next room caused other words to come out instead.

"Hey, this is the room where I first met the Founders' Guild." As I spoke, my gaze roamed over the platform and the elaborate, thrown-like chairs; it seemed like such a long time since I last saw them, but really it had only been a matter of hours.

"This is the receiving room," China said.

"It's a… a lot smaller than the stadium," I said. Try as I might to make it just a casual observation, I couldn't completely rid my tone of claustrophobia. It was only a small venue in comparison to our previous one, but it still made me feel self-conscious.

While I stood in front of the row of seats, anxiously shifting my weight between my two feet, too nervous to speak another word to China on my right, the door across from the one we'd used opened and the other Founders made their entrance. They were all dressed in fresh, stunning clothing from their beloved cultures—I couldn't think up any logical explanation for how they did it, but by now I knew not to rely too heavily on logic at this school—and they moved as quietly as monks to their appointed chairs.

"Before we begin," Alessandro said, still standing even after the others had all sat down. "I would like to inform both of you that Russia and Sweden, as well as America, are all in stable condition and are being treated for their injuries."

_By who?_ I wondered vaguely.

"Now we have come to the final event of this competition," Alessandro continued. "This is the tie-breaking event and will determine definitively who gets custody of the Seven Stars and Seven Arrows of Saint Hetalia, and, by extension, the fate of us Founders. Are you both ready to begin?"

"I am ready," China said serenely.

"I am too," I said, less serenely. My heart was thumping madly again, thinking about Su-san and what the outcome of this event meant for his future. And then I heard China's voice whisper something that I knew was meant only for me.

"I am not going to go easy on you," he said.

It was the completion of the statement he'd abandoned at the door: _"You are very competent Tino Väinämöinen. That being said, I am not going to go easy on you."_

My right hand flew to my chest and fingered the golden arrow pinned there. Whatever strength it was supposed to enhance in me, I prayed would help me out. If this was any sort of test of wisdom or intellect, I didn't stand a chance against China.

Alessandro sank into his seat and spoke again. "The challenge facing each of you is quite simple…"

To be continued


	16. Chapter 15

Free Talk: Thank you to everyone who is following and enjoying this story. Thank you for your exceptionally kind words and thank you for you exceptional patience. I am incredibly grateful to everyone who is still reading this story even though the last few chapters are taking me so incredibly long. Please continue to bear with me. I really hope that everyone likes the new chapter. Please tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is appreciated, too. Thanks again. And watch LOST because it is awesome.

**Outcast**  
By Angelsaurus

Chapter 15

Alessandro spoke so smoothly I'd never suspect he'd just witnessed a near fight to the death if I hadn't been there too. "The challenge facing each of you is quite simple: tell us why you deserve to own the Seven Stars and Seven Arrows."

I inclined my body forward, chest filled with held breath, in anticipation of what he was going to say next. But he said nothing, just looked at me and slightly raised an eyebrow at my eager posture. "Is… is that all?" I asked.

He blinked back at me with his head tilted, as if surprised that I would ask such a thing, but after a half-second he let out a small chuckle and smiled—a bit too jovial, I'd say, considering the situation. "I suppose I should give a bit more explanation," he said, aiming it at both competitors. "China will present the most logical argument he can for why the Founders' Guild and Student Council should retain ownership of their respective relics. Finland will present the most logical argument he can for why they should relinquish ownership. Whichever argument is judged most reasonable will be declared the winner. Makes sense?"

Cold dread had begun to pool in my stomach the moment he started his explanation and by the time he finished it was up to the back of my throat. "Judged by who?" I asked, following the question with a nervous swallow.

"By the five of us, of course," Alessandro said, sweeping out his hand to indicate himself and the other Founders. "We will be the jury in this competition."

If I weren't already in a state of barely contained emotional tension, I might have responded more sensibly, but instead my gut reaction leapt out of my mouth like a fast and slippery frog and plopped right down on Alessandro's lap: "That's not fair!"

For a moment, I had ten eyes staring at me while five mouths stayed tightly closed. Alessandro broke the silence.

"Yes," he said, with a surprisingly thoughtful nod. "I can see how it must appear unfair from your point of view. But I am afraid there is nothing I can do to assuage your concern. You will simply have to trust my word that we will judge your arguments fairly and without bias. These are the unbendable rules of the competition."

Despite the peaceable tone he'd used, there was a dark undercurrent to Alessandro's statement that made my insides shudder. He knew I had no recourse to object any further. The Stars I so desperately needed belonged to his team and it was by their grace that those Stars were being wagered in this elaborate contest. If the Founders were going to judge this event unfairly, that was their prerogative. Maybe their intent all along was to get this far just to snatch the win in the final event.

But why go through the ridiculous formality of this competition when they could have just refused the request from the start? It just didn't make sense.

"Finland? Are you ready to begin?"

I snapped back into the present at Alessandro's question. "Yeah, I'm ready," I said. I wasn't really, but I was as ready as I was going to get in any reasonable amount of time. "Let's do this."

If there was any reluctance evident in my voice, Alessandro just ignored it. "Excellent," he declared. "I will now flip a coin to determine who will make the first argument. Heads, Finland will go first. Tails, China." He reached for a small leather pouch attached to his belt and pulled from in it a silver disc that I assumed to be some sort of Roman coin.

Of course I was going to have to go first; the anticipation felt like a hot ember buried in my chest.

The silver coin leapt off of Alessandro's thumb and up in the air, twirled several times, and then landed in his palm. "Looks like Yao will be getting us started," he said, peering into his hand. "It's tails."

The ember fizzled out, but I still felt uncomfortable and was sheathed in nervous sweat. I couldn't waste this bit of luck I'd been granted. I had to pay close attention to everything China said and start constructing my own plea as I listened. Whether the event was rigged or not, I had to give my utmost. For Su-san.

Thinking the name helped to focus my brain.

"Alright, Yao. There is no time limit, but once you've completed your argument, you will no longer be able to speak. Any pause that lasts longer than one minute will be taken as the end of your argument. Understood?"

China nodded in agreement of Alessandro's terms and cleared his throat with an almost silent cough.

"My dearest and oldest friends, I bid you a good afternoon," said China, and I couldn't tell if it was mere politeness or a deliberate reminder of to the Founders that he was one of them. Dang, I hated how suspicious this contest was making me. China was my friend.

He continued, as self-possessed as the lawyers you see in movies. "The Seven Arrows and the Seven Stars rightfully belong to us, the Founders of Saint Hetalia. We conceived of them five hundred years ago to be tools that would allow our dream, Saint Hetalya Academy, to exist as it does now.

"The Stars would allow us to govern the school from the shadows and, along with the Foundation Stone, they've allowed us to live as long as the school. The Arrows would endow the Student Council members we chose perennially with enhanced abilities that would make them great leaders. Though they would change hands with each new Student Council, they would remain a sacred possession of the school.

"We forged these Fourteen Artifacts with our own hands. They are intrinsic to our dream, to this school, and if they are ever to be destroyed, it should be by our own hands. Until the day the Founders' Guild unanimously makes such a decision, there is no justification for the Stars and Arrows to leave their current ownership.

"We all know why Tino Väinämöinen wants the Stars and Arrows. His request for us to part with them is a request for us to sacrifice our lives and the soul of this school. It is not out of callousness towards Berwald Oxenstierna's life that I make this argument, but out of reverence for the noble purpose the Fourteen Artifacts were created to serve, and should continue to serve, forever. Thank you."

China concluded his speech with a small bow from the waist. It had taken him less than five minutes to present his side of the argument, and yet those few words had conveyed everything he needed to; now they rested like heavy stones on the floor of my stomach, threatening to collapse me to my knees. But I stood firm, locked my legs in their upright positions and lifted my shoulders to convey a level of confidence I certainly wasn't feeling.

"Finland, the floor is now yours," Alessandro said.

"R-right," I said, faltering only slightly. I didn't have rebuttals to any of his points. In fact, I couldn't help thinking that they were all completely valid. Panic seized me like cold hands; I had nothing.

"You may begin any time, child," Leopold urged with just an edge of gruff impatience.

And suddenly my heart, which had been leaping like a hare in my chest up till then, slowed to a strong but slow-steady rhythm; I felt calm flow like liquid into all the tissues of my body. If I couldn't make a case based on reason, I would share what was in my heart.

I cleared my throat and let my eyes move down the line of Founders, meeting each gaze without fear. When I spoke, my voice came out clearly and without shaking.

"How many lifetimes have each of you lived? How many students have you seen pass through the halls of the school you created and graduate with honor into lives of great success in the wider world? Could they not achieve so much if those Stars and Arrows were to disappear?

"The soul of Saint Hetalia does not reside in little trinkets of gold and crystal, but in the hearts of its students. You built this school to enrich the lives of young people from all over the world, so that each one could live up to his or her amazing potential. And right now one of your students is suffering."

The soft lower lids of my eyes quivered slightly, a sensation that usually portended tears, but I didn't cry. I felt the emotion that would ordinarily make me cry bubbling up inside my chest, but instead of spilling out from my eyes, it flowed over my tongue and into my voice. The emotions didn't drain my words or make them unsteady; it made them more certain, stronger.

"Berwald has been suffering for so many years, completely undeservedly, because of the spell cast by those Artifacts and the Foundation Stone. And he is not the only one. Torvald, your fellow Founder, has longed to leave this world for far, far too long.

"You speak of the noble purpose of the Fourteen Artifacts, but now an even greater one has arisen. The sacrifice of these items will save two lives. No. More than that. Because when Berwald's body eventually dies, some other innocent person will be possessed by a spirit that can't find peace. And you are the ones who can stop it.

"The Student Council members volunteered to not only give up their Arrows, but to risk their own lives for the sake of a boy they barely know. That is the strength of heart the students of Saint Hetalia have. And you, as the Saint Hetalia Founders, should have hearts over thirty times as strong and compassionate, since you have lived over thirty times as long.

"Living forever was not one of the purposes you created the Fourteen Artifacts for. China told me that that was an unintended side effect. And that means that you always intended for the school to continue without you after you all passed away. Have you lost faith in your students over the centuries? Do you no longer believe that they will carry on your dream for this incredible school?

"Please, have faith in us. Like I already said, today the Student Council showed you what lengths they are willing to go to for the life of a fellow student. I have faith in you. Please, show me what lengths you are willing to go to for him. For Berwald."

The words all flowed out so effortlessly; it wasn't that I didn't need to think about them, but that my mouth was just pulling them out from the place where they had been buried deep within my being. Now the stream stopped and I took in a cool gulp of air through rounded lips before adding my last piece.

"I will close by asking you each to imagine that you are mortal and a child again. I know it was a long time ago, but I know you can remember what it was like. Now imagine being sixteen years old and having already had everyone you love stolen from you, murdered without any reason. And imagine being hated and ignored by your peers, the people who should be your friends, because they call you cursed. And then you learn that _your hands_ are the ones that committed these atrocities, but you are completely powerless to stop them. Eventually, you know, the murderer will claim your body completely and you will be trapped and alone for the rest of your life.

"And imagine there is someone who could save you just by giving up an old piece of jewelry. Wouldn't you consider it the noblest, kindest, greatest act of all for them to end your suffering?" I paused for just half a second. "That's all I have to say."

I wasn't expecting them to deliver a verdict the second I closed my mouth, but the silence that followed took me by surprise for some reason. It was the absoluteness of it, I think, the way it swallowed the room like a great solemn gulp. When my eyes moved over the faces of the jury, the answer was written in their eyes; Su-san's pain sparkled on the wet blue, grey, brown, and hazel. And I knew I had reached them.

The first sound that broke open the sealed silence was a cough from Alessandro, an awkward sound like he hadn't been able use his vocal chords in years and was just now rediscovering them. "Well now," he said. "I think the five of us all know which side has won his argument."

"You aren't going to talk amongst yourselves first?" I asked, my features puckering quizzically even as my insides churned.

A wistful smile settled onto Alessandro's face. "That won't be necessary," he said. "All of our years together have given us a sixth sense about what each other is thinking. And if anyone objects to my pronouncement, he or she will speak up."

I mouthed the word, "alright," but only a ghost of the sound came out.

Alessandro elaborated. "Though the many years we've lived may have hardened our hearts in certain ways, rest assured, Finland, that they are not made of stone and that your sincere plea for the life of your friend has touched each and every one of us in a very profound way."

I felt triumph rising as he spoke, a small bubble fluttering up from the deepest pit in my stomach and expanding the higher it rose so that by the time it reached the top of my chest it filled me to the edges. I was stretched around the feeling, warm and wonderful. But it wasn't me who'd done it. It was Su-san. His story was what moved them and this victory belonged to him. I couldn't help smiling like a fool. A ridiculously happy fool.

"That being said…"

When Alessandro continued, after a long pause, the tone of his voice had changed. It was softer, slower, and tinged so delicately with regret that the hope blossoming beneath my ribs recoiled before my brain had processed why. What came next was going to be bad.

"That being said, this contest was not described as an appeal to emotion, but as an appeal to logic. China made the more rational argument that the Fourteen Artifacts were made for a specific purpose and that they should continue serving that specific purpose. Furthermore, he illuminated the point that the ones who created the Artifacts—that would be us—should retain custody of them. Do any of my fellow Founders disagree?"

He swept his gaze left and right to assess the reactions on either side. The others shook their heads. "No, we all agree with your ruling," Amunet said, a sigh, but with a shade of that effortless haughtiness that she could never fully extinguish from her voice. "By the rules of the event, China is the winner."

_No!_ This couldn't be happening! When I'd thought I was the victor, I owed it all to Su-san. But now the weight of failure, heavier than the entire school above our heads, rested on me alone. The shame of it felt like a hot brand pressed to the skin of my belly. I thought I might vomit, but my stomach was knotted too tightly to eject its contents.

_I let him down. I failed him. I doomed him._

I spread my lips in a futile last-ditch attempt to object before Alessandro made the judgment official, but my raw and itchy throat just spasmed against itself and the only sound I produced was a tiny, strangled croak that was quickly buried beneath the authoritative boom of Ancient Rome.

"The winner of this competition, whose team will be awarded the Seven Stars and Seven Arrows, is…"

"Alessandro." The interruption was calm and curt. China. It surprised me like a glass of ice water splashed in my face. "There is still one Founder of Saint Hetalia who needs to weigh in on this matter."

He couldn't mean himself, could he? As a participant of the contest, China was barred from voting and he was too smart to try and influence the decision. And why would he need to? He'd won. My breath crouched low in my lungs as this played out.

"Yao," Alessandro replied, and it was not a question. He didn't seem a bit surprised by China's interjection. In fact, the way he looked at China conveyed that he knew exactly what this was about. "So you've made up your mind to go through with it?"

China took two graceful strides forward and towards center, so he was directly in front of Alessandro, and spoke in that 500-year old voice of his. "Finland met the requirement, did he not? He did get you all to care about the fate of Berwald Oxenstierna?"

Once again, Alessandro turned to consult the faces of his fellow Founders. Each of them had reverted to the silently emotive expressions worn when I'd just finished my argument. Helena's plumped and shivering lower lip seemed to suggest barely restrained tears. Alessandro returned his eyes to me for just a moment, and though they were set in a face that looked no older than twenty-five, I could see the centuries of life in them just as clearly as I could in China's eyes. And I could see true compassion there.

"Aye," he said to China, leaving me completely out. "He did accomplish exactly what you said he would. So the decision falls to you, as promised, Yao. Do you still feel the same way?"

China let his eyes fall softly closed and opened them again slowly. "You know that I do, Alessandro," he said. "It is how I've felt for almost one hundred years. And I do believe that deep down you agree with me. It is time."

The words they exchanged were plainly part of a much deeper, much older conversation, and while I couldn't help but feel like a voyeur to be overhearing an exchange so steeped in history that did not include me, I burned with curiosity. They had mentioned me, after all—it would appear that some important decision had hinged on my ability to emotionally reach to the Founders—so this wasn't really none of my business.

"Just say the words then," Alessandro said.

China smiled wanly and replied loudly enough to denote his words as an official announcement to the room. "I forfeit." Then he walked back to where he'd been standing before, my eyes following him in stunned silence. He didn't look at me; his eyes were closed in a stoic and dutiful face.

The smack of Alessandro clapping his hands together made me jump slightly at first and then I turned promptly to give him my attention. "It appears I will have to reform my declaration," he stated. "With China having forfeited the competition, the winner by default," he paused a moment for thought, "and by reason of his empathy and emotional resonance, is Finland. The Seven Stars and Seven Arrows are officially granted to him and the Saint Hetalia Student Council."

If China's initial objection had been a glass of ice water in my face, this new announcement was a ten-gallon bucket. My mouth flopped open and shut like a fish's but I just couldn't make any of the questions I had come out. The Founders all stood up from their chairs and walked down from their pedestal to surround me in a small circle. At first none of them spoke, but then China moved closer and set a hand on my shoulder.

"I can understand if you are confused," he said, gentleness not affected by the death sentence he had just arranged for himself. "I am sure you have many questions. When you find your voice, ask and we shall answer every one."

My mouth flapped again, but this time a hoarse voice came out. "Can I go see Su-san?" The question came without me even having to think about it.

"Of course," China said. His smile had gone from wan to warm. "Let us all go to the hospital wing together."

"It's a bit of a ways from here," Evelyn said as she pushed the edges of her forest green cape off her bare white shoulders.

"But luckily, we won't have to walk most of the way," Amunet added with a smirk.

They were all so strangely calm considering what had just happened and it occurred to me that they all must have known it would end like this from the very start. Wait, how long had they known? The questions I hadn't been able to ask at first were starting itch in my throat. But we were walking now and I could wait until a better time to ask them. Right now the joy of knowing that Su-san, dear Berwald, was going to be freed was overflowing inside me like gold light and that was enough to satisfy me.

The procession—Roman conqueror, Egyptian queen, Greek goddess, Germanic horseman, Celtic sorceress, Chinese scholar, and unremarkable Finnish schoolboy—moved through the dimly lit hallways in silence, around a half-dozen corners, until we'd reached a large, closed door. It was made of heavy, polished wood and had iron furnishings, quite ancient-looking. When Alessandro opened it, a small platform, like a greatly reduced version of a subway station, was revealed. And waiting for us was a very neat, surprisingly modern train car.

"All aboard!" Alessandro bellowed, and for that moment he reminded me so much of the Student Council President that I almost laughed.

The bottom of the car was obscured so that I couldn't get a clear view of what sort of track this thing ran on, but worrying about something like that at a time like this was just silly. I stepped into the train when China gestured for me to go ahead of him and then he followed and we took our seats on the clean, padded benches that lined the sides. Germania alone remained standing and only long enough for him to reach for the large, forward-pointing brass lever in the middle of the floor and pull it all the way back. Then he sat down as the car lurched into motion.

This would be a perfect time for me to start inquiring about the outcome of my match against China and the esoteric discussion that had taken place between him and Alessandro that apparently negotiated my victory. The blanket of silence smothering this train car made my tongue feel rubbery and paralyzed, unwilling to make the first sound. But I knew that they wouldn't talk unless I did, so after a moment of chewing on my lower lip I let spill the first question from the growing list in my brain.

"China, why did you forfeit?" It came out too fast and without grace, but China, who was sitting directly across from me, reacted as if it was perfectly polite.

"I forfeited because I felt you deserved to win," he said. "But also because I wanted you to win. You, Finland, and the Student Council."

"But us winning means you die," I blurted out.

He bowed his head slightly. "Yes. For nearly a century, that is the only thing I have wanted."

A shudder zipped from the balls of my feet to the crown of my skull. "You've wanted to die? But you don't seem depressed or suicidal."

"We aren't depressed," a female voice, Helena the Greek, cut in. "Just tired."

"Not our bodies, of course," Evelyn chimed, Socratic seminar style. "But there is a mental and emotional exhaustion that overcomes a person after living so many years."

"Fatigue of the soul, I call it," said Alessandro.

"But we couldn't simply take our own lives," China said, reclaiming the discussion. "All of us knew that Torvald was not at peace after he killed his body, though we had no idea that his soul had possessed a human boy. And we couldn't destroy the Foundation Stone and the Fourteen Artifacts because if we did, there would be nobody left to run the school in our stead. We are the only people who understand the intricate workings of Saint Hetalia, the only ones who can manage the many responsibilities of its care and keeping."

I could feel my face scrunching up in confusion. China offered a tiny smile of sympathy.

"And then you came along," he told me. "You and Sweden. That night that I learned Torvald's violent spirit inhabited your friend's body, we knew that it was time. But there was still the question of who would manage the school after we were gone. We did have an idea, a group in mind, but we would have to test their mettle first to make sure that they were up to the task."

"You mean the Student Council?" I gasped out. China nodded and I squawked, "But what if they had all lost?"

Alessandro let out a hearty chuckle. "That's what the rest of us were asking when Yao told us the idea. But he absolutely insisted that that wouldn't be the case. And besides, it wasn't really all about winning, but about how well they performed. In that regard, every one of them passed with flying colors."

I looked over at China, expecting to see a look of placid satisfaction, but instead found him gazing at the floor remorsefully. "China?" I asked softly.

"I never meant for them to be hurt so badly," he said in a thin voice, eyes still down. "Alfred and Ivan and Berwald, I never expected them to sustain such horrible injuries. For that, I cannot express enough regret. I am so deeply sorry." He used their real names and spoke them with such gravitas; I could feel his guilt like a lead weight on my own chest.

"There's no sense in beating yourself up over it," I soothed, and it struck me suddenly how odd it was for me to be the one comforting China. "All that matters is that they are going to be okay in the end." _Yes, they have to be all right_, I thought inside a brief pause. "So, the competitions were not what we thought they were. But how did I factor into this plan?"

China had steeled himself and straightened up in his seat now and he answered with his poise mostly returned, though his eyes were still a bit glazed. "Your role, young Finland, was to ensure that we were doing this for the right reasons. If anyone could convey the selfless nature of giving up those artifacts, I knew it was you. And we needed someone with an incredibly strong heart to help the Student Council continue our legacy. That person is you, Tino Väinämöinen, and you proved your worthiness with the speech you delivered today."

"You will work with the Student Council, won't you?" Helena asked, her large wet eyes imploring me.

"I…" The vowel stretched from my mouth like one long, gooey strand of saliva but it wasn't towing any sounds behind it; I felt very fortunate when the shuddering stop of the train car saved me from having to reveal that I had no idea what to say next.

"Looks like we're here," Alessandro said, slapping both hands down on his thighs and standing up. Yes, he was definitely the America of his clique.

The door opened—this time it was on the opposite side from the one we'd entered through—and I followed the others out onto another little train platform. A plaque bearing the words 'Hospital Ward' was affixed to the exit and the realization that Su-san was so close made my heart speed up.

There turned out to be another short length of hallway (very well-lit this time) and one more door to pass through before we actually set foot in the Founders' hospital.

"What happened? Did you win?" Italy's eager voice burst out as soon as I'd set foot inside the hospital. His anxious face was right in front of mine, obscuring any other view.

"Hey! Take a step back," Germany commanded, firm but affectionate as he guided his companion back from me. "And not so loud. You might wake them up."

"Eh, I do not think zat is going to 'appen," I heard France say in a skeptical tone.

Now that Italy had put some space between my face and his, I saw four members of the Student Council before me: France, Germany, Italy, and Japan. Japan was cradling a familiar bundle of fluff in his arms. Flower-Egg was perfectly safe and unharmed, sleeping.

"So… did you win?" Italy asked again in a softer, more cautious tone.

I felt the warm pressure of a hand on my shoulder. "He did indeed," China said humbly. "Finland beat me, which makes all of you the victors of this tournament."

The four faces in front of me, even those of the normally serious Japan and Germany, lit up with bright smiles. Their mouths gushed words of congratulations, which I did appreciate, but my eyes were already scanning past their heads into the hospital behind them, searching for Su-san. Though it was just one large room, a tall curtain was drawn halfway across, obscuring whatever beds were there. I craned my neck uselessly.

"Oh, you must want to be with Sweden!" Italy chirped, indicating that my effort was completely obvious. "Go on! You should be together!" He squeezed himself closer to Germany and nuzzled his cheek against a burly shoulder, an action that both demonstrated his idea of togetherness (earning a fiercely red blush from Germany) and opening a space for me to step through.

The scene behind the curtain was bright and clean, like a regular hospital, but surprisingly and refreshingly colorful as well. The sheets on the single row of beds were white, but the walls were tiled with red, blue, green, gold, and purple shards, meticulously arranged into an elaborate panoramic mosaic of pastures and forests and beaches and oceans. Beneath a beautiful tile oak tree slept Su-san.

I went to him as fast as I could without running and fell to my knees next to his bed.

"Su-san," I squeaked as tears started to ooze onto my cheeks.

He was laid out on top of the bedcovers, stripped down to shorts and undershirt that molded to his body with perspiration. Or maybe it was ice that had melted; all around him, ice packs had been tucked against his skin and I could tell from their sagging shape that they were more water than ice at this point. He'd been cleaned up. The exposed parts of him were lily white but marbled in places with budding purple bruises from his fight; that damage actually seemed miraculously minor considering the beating I'd watched him receive.

There was in IV in his arm attached to a fat bag of clear fluid that hung above his bed and wires running out from under his shirt beeped out his steady heart rate. His sweat-drenched hair was pasted to his forehead but his flushed face seemed more peaceful than the last time this had happened. I reached out to touch his hand. Hot, but not blazing like I remembered. Perhaps the latest turn of events was making me perceive things more optimistically.

His chest rose and fell evenly and the pace slowed down mine, which I now realized had been racing.

"The doctor said that his temperature was coming down already. Sweden's I mean."

I turned towards the voice, which had an unmistakable accent, and saw England sitting on a wooden stool next to the patient two beds down from Su-san. Of course it was America that he was watching over. I felt just a small twinge of guilt that I hadn't even noticed them there and had gone straight to Su-san's side.

I offered England a grateful smile as I clasped both my hands around Su-san's. "Really? He does feel cooler."

"Is it true that you beat China?" England asked with about a third of the enthusiasm Italy had shown.

"Yeah," I said, echoing his subdued tone due to our remarkably similar circumstances.

He smiled a genuine smile and nodded. "Congratulations, Finland."

"Thanks, England. So how is…" I wasn't sure how delicately I had to ask this. "How is America?"

England sighed but with a trace of smile still in place. "Oh, he'll be right as rain in a couple of months. Though I suppose the pins do look rather ghastly at the moment."

Looking at America now—since he had totally escaped my attention up until now—I had to agree. He was propped up in his bed so that his arms could rest more easily atop two foam wedges on either side of him. The arms weren't wrapped. Instead of casts each sported a gruesome-looking piece of hardware, a cage-like series of connected rings around the limb with pins jutting into his pale flesh and presumably down into his bones. The sight made me queasy.

But America was asleep and totally oblivious. He made a soft snorting sound and England immediately turned his eyes back, though he continued to talk to me. "Surgery took over an hour. He's still totally doped up. Don't know how he'll react when he wakes up and discovers he can't shovel food into his own mouth for a while." England sighed when America let out another nasal sound. "You know, I thought it was so annoying when I discovered that my boyfriend snores. And yet I really don't mind listening to it right now."

It had nothing to do with me, but for some reason it felt significant to me that England had just called America his boyfriend without hesitation or sarcasm. Keeping things secret for appearances sake just wasn't important anymore.

I stroked my thumb in gentle circles on the back of Su-san's hot, damp hand. "You're going to be okay," I whispered in his ear. "That guy is going to go on to where he belongs and he'll never bother you again."

Whether or not he could actually hear me, I was also saying these things for my own benefit. I was trying to keep my brain focused solely on Su-san for this brief moment and not on the many other thoughts—the conditions of my victory that the Founders revealed to me on the train, the fact that their deaths were imminent, the third and most critically injured boy who was still notably absent from these hospital beds—threatening to overwhelm my system if I allowed them a louder voice in my head.

"He will wake up from this," said China, who had drifted past the curtain and towards us so quietly that I hadn't noticed until he was standing right behind me. "Sweden and Torvald were both exhausted by the fight with Russia, but Torvald expended far more energy. Once the body they share regains its strength, I believe it will be Sweden who is in control."

I turned and looked at his face, my eyebrows creasing despite my sincerest desire to take his word as absolute truth. There was something I wanted to ask him now, but the question felt like a jagged rock in my stomach the size of a football. How could I possibly ask him when we were to get on with it and instigate his death? Even if the Founders' had planned this outcome from the start, it was not something that I had any right to rush. I just wasn't sure how much time Su-san had. I sucked anxiously on the insides of my cheeks.

"We will destroy the Stone soon," said China, with apparent clairvoyance that frightened me in a beautiful way. "There is just one more…" He cut off his sentence abruptly at the sound of a _swoosh_. It was such a soft noise I wasn't sure if I'd actually heard it, but I craned neck to the same direction that he did.

At the back of the hospital ward, one of a set of enormous double doors had swung open and was being held by a man or woman—I couldn't tell from my vantage point—who flattened against it to leave a wide passage. A wheeled gurney, notably more modern than the simple stretchers used down at the arena, emerged from the doorway with another medical person pushing it.

I knew exactly who the patient was. _At least Torvald didn't kill him_, I thought. _And if they are bringing him out here, it must mean his condition is stable._

The doctor (or nurse, or hospital technician; I had no idea) pushing the gurney steered Russia into the space between Su-san's bed and the empty bed next to it and the one who'd been holding the door, plus two more, hurried over to help. It took all four of them to transfer the massive teenager from the gurney to the bed, though I imagined the extra hands were to make the move as fluid and quick as possible.

When Russia was safely on the bed between Su-san's and America's and hooked to various monitoring devices, the three aides took the gurney back while the one who'd pushed it in turned attention to China. This was obviously a person that China knew well and I stored away the question of how the hospital was managed along with all the other things that wouldn't have to be dealt with until after the Founders were gone.

"What's the damage, Doc?" China asked seriously.

The doctor pulled down her mask, revealing a mouth and chin and nose that were almost certainly female, and responded with a tired sigh. "That kid was a complete mess when he arrived. Four cracked ribs, four missing teeth. Jaw was smashed in three. Blowout fracture of the left eye socket and a hairline crack in his skull. A badly broken nose, of course. Broken cheekbone. Every bone in his right hand up to his wrist was shattered. The list just goes on. He's lucky to be alive."

China bowed his head solemnly. "I see. So what's the prognosis?"

"It took a lot of us, but we managed to put him back together," the doctor said. "His intracranial pressure was a bit high so he'll be kept in a drug-induced coma, just until the swelling goes down. With any luck, Braginski will wake up with no long-term damage."

As the doctor listed off the damages done, China had nodded shallowly to indicate that he was following along. But his half-lidded eyes were unfocused, like black marbles. Despite his being notoriously hard to read, I somehow knew that he was stacking the checklist of horrors on top of his guilty conscience, taking each injury done to Russia as his fault since the tournament had been his brainchild.

I finally flicked my eyes over to Russia when the phrase 'drug-induced coma' was uttered. A coma seemed merciful in his current state. His entire head was caged in a similar apparatus to the ones around America's arms, a matrix of surgical steel that held the pieces of his jaw and skull together and immobilized his neck while they healed. A metal splint braced his nose and his left eye was wrapped in gauze. The right eye was black and grossly swollen.

I gulped down a sticky clot of saliva. It could have been worse. The guy who did this to him was a killer after all.

"Thank you, Bernice," China told the doctor when she'd finished her assessment. "Would you please do me a favor and make sure that there are fresh sunflowers next to his bed when he does awaken?"

"Of course, no problem," she said. Then she stepped up to Su-san's bed and bent over him, flattened her palm over his forehead. "Feels like Oxenstierna's fever is continuing to drop. Let me check his temperature again." She retrieved a digital thermometer and pressed it into Su-san's ear until it beeped. "Thirty-seven point eight. It's way down from when he was brought in. He was pushing forty-three degrees when he first arrived. I even wondered if my thermometer was broken. Thankfully, the ice packs and cool saline are working." She prodded one of the sagging plastic bags with a fingertip. "Looks like it's about time to replace these."

I watched the doctor fussing over Su-san with idle curiosity. She looked to be in her thirties, I'd guess, had a pleasant manner and a kind face with bright, intelligent eyes. But who was she and how much did she know about the people who employed her and the school where she worked? My questions followed her to the back of the ward and disappeared with her through the double doors.

Once again I became all about Su-san. His temperature was coming down quickly, which upped my optimism. I curled my fingers around his hand and squeezed gently. "Please wake up soon," I whispered. "I can't bear not knowing if you are okay."

Red flashed in my peripheral vision, China's jacket as he swept around to the other side of Su-san's bed. He knelt down so that we were at the same height, which I took to mean that he needed my attention. Somewhat hesitantly, I gave it to him. And then I remembered that he was about to tell me something important before the doctor and Russia had appeared.

"Finland, I'm afraid there is still one more task you must complete," he said, sparing me any reintroduction to our previous conversation. "One more thing that you must do before we can destroy the Foundation Stone and the Artifacts."

My forehead suddenly felt as hot as the hand I was holding and beaded with perspiration. "Is it another test?" I asked warily.

An almost imperceptible flinch of China's cool features told me that my words had stung the open wound of guilt on his conscience. But I hadn't meant it in a cynical way.

"No," he said, hiding any discomfort flawlessly now. "This time it is a matter of necessity." As he paused his speech, one handed dipped down into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out in a closed fist. China held it, knuckles up, in front of my eyes and opened it like a lotus; one Crystal Star pin was nestled in the center of his palm. "Torvald placed this in my hand moments before he threw himself off a cliff. It is a fake."

I blinked in shock as he snapped his hand closed on the word 'fake.' It took a bewildered half-moment to make my mouth form a response. "A fake? You're sure?" He nodded; I asked more questions. "Why did you take it? Where is the real one?"

"I took it because he gave it too me," China explained. "And I kept it to remind me of the last words Torvald spoke before his death."

His voice changed when he switched from his own words to Torvald's. His eyes changed, as if their black back walls had fallen away to make room for all the years they were looking back through.

_"Yao, you all are fools and cowards. You hide in your hole in the ground, too afraid of death to ever face it. Too afraid of loss to love anything besides your school and your selves. You cling to worthless trinkets as if they were your own hearts. But I gave my heart away long ago and an artificial one can no longer sustain me."_

"And then he just… jumped?" The words trembled from my lips; I didn't realize I'd been so affected until I heard my own voice.

China gave a somber nod. "There was no way I could have stopped him. I trekked to the valley far below where I recovered his broken body and I had it entombed alongside his wife, Astrid." He paused. "It wasn't until later that I discovered the Star he gave me was a very well-made fake, but at that time I saw no reason not to let the real thing remain where it was. The Star belonged to Torvald, after all, and its final resting place should be his to decide." Another, longer pause. "Except I knew that it wouldn't be final. I knew that this day would come eventually."

The remaining task had already begun to weave together in my brain as China's account of that last encounter with Torvald offered up threads. It was not shaping up to be an easy task. "So someone needs to retrieve the real Star?" I asked him, though I already knew the answer.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"Do you know where it is?" This was a question I was less sure about.

"Yes," China said again with just as much certainty as the first one. "Torvald coded it in his final words to me. But I also know because I have seen it with my own eyes. He gave it to Astrid and when she died it was inlaid on her tomb."

A wave of prickles surged in a swift path up my spine. "Grave robbery?"

"I'm afraid there is no other way," China said. "You and I will leave in half an hour."

"Whoa! Wait! Hold on!" Three version of the same thing burst from my mouth far more loudly than was appropriate in a hospital. "I'm sorry but I can't leave Su-san's side now. I… I won't!" Feeling suddenly very protective, I leaned down and pressed my cheek to the back of Su-san's hand. "I'm sorry," I repeated softly, apologetically (because I really was sorry). "I'm not going anywhere without him."

"Very well," China said, and though I didn't lift my face to check his expression, I knew it had to be a sad, subtly disappointed one. It made his next words all the more stunning. "He'll just have to come with us, then." The tone he used was almost a chirp.

I looked up and saw a warm half-smile on China's face. "You… you mean it? How are we going to… I mean, he's unconscious, so…" I gasped mid-sentence. The hand I was squeezing just squeezed back. My eyes immediately moved to Su-san's face. "Su-san! Su… Berwald! Can you hear me?"

His eyelids quivered, scrunched, cheeks twitched. A weak growl crawled up from his throat and slipped out through barely parted lips. After another second, his eyes opened; I'd completely forgotten about the possibility that someone other than Su-san might be waking up until I saw those two bright slivers of blue-green.

"T'no?" he mumbled groggily.

"That's right," I said. Joy and relief exploded like fireworks inside my chest. "I'm here, Berwald. Everything is going to be okay. How do you feel?"

He propped himself up clumsily on his elbows and I drew in a sharp breath. I wished he would take it easier, but I didn't say anything; he seemed so determined.

"M' head h'rts a bit," he said, reaching up to knead his temple with the ball of one hand. "I r'memb'r I was 'n a fight. B't I couldn' contr'l m' body. What happ'ned?"

My belly squirmed. He was weak and disoriented. If he was fully awake and aware with his memory fully intact he would have been much more upset about what had led him to this condition. Was he really fit to travel?

"It's wonderful to see you awake," China said, smiling. "Finland and I are going to fill you in on everything that has happened today once we are on the jet. In the meantime, you should conserve your strength and just rest."

"Jet?" Su-san and I uttered together in a moment of synchrony (though what he said was actually closer to 'j't?').

"The three of us are going to be going on a trip," China said. "And it's fastest way to get where we're going."

I scrunched my eyebrows, tilted my head to one side. "Where is it exactly that we are going?"

China answered with one word. "Finland."

To be continued…


	17. Chapter 16

Free Talk: This is the penultimate chapter of this story. It's rather long so I will keep the Free Talk rather short. Thank you for all of the support and comments and thank you for being so patient for my snail-paced updates. I am very grateful that people are reading my fanfiction and it really means a lot to me to be able to finish this before I go back to school. Please tell me what you think of the new chapter. Oh, and I am thinking of putting together a soundtrack for this fanfic. I already have a lot of songs in mind, but if anyone has any suggestions, I would love to hear them. Many thanks as always.

**Outcast**  
By Angelsaurus

Chapter 16

My footfalls landed with soft, gritty scratches as the crumbled bits of tower wedged into the treads of my sneakers scraped the stone floor. I was dragging my feet a bit as I hurried through the hallway. I'd been freighted back up into the school building at a remarkable speed via elevator—the fact that there was such a thing connecting the Founders' hospital to the school infirmary still boggled me to think about, even if it did make perfect sense in the event of emergency—and now I was dashing as quickly as possibly back to me and Su-san's dormitory on China's instructions.

_"I want you to take the freight elevator back upstairs,"_ he'd told me. _"Don't worry about running into anyone; all of the student have gone across the lake for a banquet at the girls' school. Go back to your dorm and get yourself showered and changed, and bring fresh clothes for Sweden as well. You should probably dress a bit more warmly than what is appropriate here. Our destination is Lapland. I will stay here with Sweden for your return."_

Of course I had protested the idea of leaving Su-san's side, but China had insisted that he would be well cared for and insisted that the brief separation would be beneficial for me. It did feel kind of good to be back above ground, I had to concede; I hadn't realized how much fresher the air was up here until I drank that first breath into my lungs.

The halls were just as empty as promised. An opportunity for feasting and interaction with girls was, quite understandably, one that very few teenage boys would pass up. But even vacant, the hallways of St. Hetalia Boys Academy seemed strangely and wonderfully normal. The fact that something as ordinary as a high school party could be taking place tonight amazed me, and the fact that it amazed me made me realize just how warped my perspective had become lately.

The light beaming in through the windows and spilling across the stone floor was the color of egg yolk. It was late afternoon and I had spent the better part of the day participating in a life-and-death tournament in a coliseum of doom a mile underground. Being back on the surface reminded me how prosaic my life had been before all this happened and made me wonder what might have been if supernatural forces were not in play.

Would I have been so drawn to Su-san initially if it weren't for the intrigue of his curse? I really wanted to believe that I would. After all, it was the goodness I saw shining through his frightening exterior that made me care about him. Yet I couldn't rid myself of the thought that if Su-san's life weren't in peril, my teenage crush probably wouldn't have escalated so quickly.

Once Torvald was gone and our lives returned to something more normal, would our feelings towards each other change?

I tried not to think about that question as my legs propelled my closer to the dorm room. _One obstacle at a time, Tino_, I told myself. And right now there was still this major task to deal with. I was so focused on the mission at hand, in fact, that I wasn't paying attention to the path I was running, and when I rounded the last corner I experienced a head-on collision that knocked me flat on my rump.

I was apologizing before I even looked up to see who I'd run into. "Oh gosh! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I…" The moment my eyes found my crash victim, I started to stumble over my own tongue. "Den… mark… I'm, um, really sorry I bumped into you. I wasn't watching the road. It was totally my fault… So… Why aren't you at the party?"

He said nothing, stared down at me with shock-wide eyes, as if I were a lunatic. Oh crap, that's right! I wasn't supposed to talk to him! For a split-second, my hand slapped over my mouth as if I could cram the words back in. But just as quickly, the thought occurred to me: what's the point? Nobody was around to hear me violate the shunning, and even if they did, I had a strong feeling that it didn't really matter at this point.

"You don't have to say anything to me," I said, hoisting myself up from the floor. "But I'm not scared of the consequences." When I brushed my pants off with my hands, a rather dense cloud of dust that had nothing to do with my fall fluttered up into the sun streams. Denmark raised an eyebrow. "Oh right, I must look like a complete mess," I said. "I don't have time to tell you all about it now, but I can tell you that I am going to stop the guy who killed Maren from ever hurting anyone again. And I am going to save Berwald."

I paused a moment to allow him to speak if he decided he wanted to, but Denmark stayed silent. He looked at me with an unreadable expression on his face. He didn't look shocked or angry or sad. It was an introverted face; he was definitely thinking about something, but there were no visible clues to help me guess what that was.

"Okay, I… I gotta go," I said, feeling rude but strangely relieved to be leaving him. Before I dashed off, I reached out to touch his upper arm and I looked in his eyes. It was funny how, despite the fact that our last close encounter had been him ruthlessly assaulting me, I didn't feel any hatred or fear. All I felt for Denmark, Søren, was sympathy. "Everything is going to be okay," I said.

And then I was hurtling down the last stretch of hallway towards the room I shared with Su-san and not looking back.

Stepping inside our room, I felt like I was returning from a weeks-long vacation when really I had only been gone half a day. So much had happened. I didn't waste time reminiscing, though, not while Su-san was waiting. I made a b-line for the shower and spent less then ten minutes in there. A distracted brain directed clumsy hands in the most inefficient washing imaginable. When I stepped out amid curls of steam, there was still grit clinging in my hair and behind my ear.

I dressed myself in the first clothes I pulled out of my drawers; wardrobe selection was the least of my concerns. Su-san's ensemble got a little more thought simply because I wasn't familiar enough with his clothes to know that whatever I grabbed would match and would fit (as was the case with my own stuff). I had to unfold the t-shirt and jeans and hold them up to make sure they were adequate. Lastly, because we were heading north, I took our blue school sweaters—mine had never even been worn yet—and Su-san's hiking boots.

And I was off again. The halls really were absolutely empty this time around, Denmark having gone to wherever it was he was going. When this was all over, I swore I was going to make things right between me and him and Su-san.

I didn't have to explain myself to the staff in the infirmary; they knew that I was returning and didn't hinder my dash to the elevator. During the plunge downward, I let myself briefly ponder why we didn't just take the elevator for every trip to the underground, but I didn't let it bother me. I firmly believed that China didn't do anything without a reason.

When I arrived at the underground infirmary, the Founders and Student Council members were all clustered loosely around Su-san's bed. Su-san himself was sitting up and looking much better than he had when I left him. As soon as he caught me in the corner of his vision, he turned and greeted me with the small almost-smile that was still new to his features.

"W'lcome back, T'no," he said. My heart still did a funny, excited beat every time he used my real name.

"I just brought a white shirt and jeans and your sweater," I said, very quickly, like a young boy talking to the object of his crush. "And your boots. I hope that's okay." I thrust the stack of clothing out in front of me.

"Th't's fine," he said, and his eyes settled inside mine for a moment. No matter how ominous his gaze was I could see that glimmer of goodness shining through. He took the clothes and set them in his lap.

"So, uh, what exactly did I miss?" I asked the entire assembly, though I mostly intended it towards Su-san and China.

"Well," Su-san sighed. "I und'rstand now th't th' fight I rem'mber'd wasn' just a dream." He turned his eyes towards Russia's bed. "It was my h'nds th't did th't t' him."

At that moment, Su-san's face looked so sad and so tinged with regret that I wanted to climb into the bed and just embrace him as tightly as I could. But the next moment he turned and looked me in the eyes again, and though the sadness was still present, there was determination there, too. And there was absolutely no sign of self-pity.

"You are taking it pretty well," I said.

He gave me the almost-smile again. "Ch'na explain'd t' me why ev'ryone did th's for me, th't they chose t' do it. I'm not going t' let th' sacr'fices they all made be 'n vain. Ch'na said th' last th'ng we have t' do id go t' F'nland 'nd retrieve th't star. Then we can p't all th's b'hind us and Torv'ld'll nev'r hurt 'nyone ev'r again."

"That's right," I said, nodding firmly. "It's the last step. And then you will be free, Berwald. Torvald will never be able to use your body again. Nobody will call you cursed anymore."

We shared another moment of our gazes connecting. A shiver of pleasure danced on my spine.

"In other news," a quiet and most unobtrusive voice began. "The Founders have asked the Student Council to take over their duties running the school when this is all over."

It was Japan who said it, looking remarkably composed in his dust-caked traditional clothing. He was still holding Flower-Egg, scratching her behind her velvety ears, and I noticed that his eyes kept shifting over to Helena for some reason—she certainly was a striking beauty, but I got the feeling that it might have been because she reminded him of someone.

Before I could ask if they had agreed, Alessandro interjected. "While you three are off on your adventure, the rest of us are going to show these kids the basics. You all are going to do a terrific job, I know it."

"It sounds like quite a Herculean task," Germany said, all seriousness. "But I believe if we approach it is the right way, we will be very successful."

Italy fluttered at his side excitedly. "And then we'll teach the next Student Council and they'll teach the next next Student Council and they'll teach the next next _next_ Student Council and…!"

He was stopped by a heavy pat on the head by Germany's hand. "I think he gets the idea, Feliciano," Germany said.

"Oh, uh, right!" Italy chirped.

"So you're really all on board?" I asked.

"Indubitably," England said from his spot near America's bed. "And you'd better believe this one will be all over it when he awakes, trying to be a hero as always."

"Well, we've prepared manuals in anticipation of this handover," Helena said, all bubbly and feminine despite this being the eve of her death. "And you'll all bring your own personalities and strengths to the job. We've seen what those are so not one of us is worried."

I could feel a smile growing on my face. Everything really was in order. The Founders were ready to pass into the next life and the Student Council members were ready to step into the very large shoes left behind. All that was left was just a quick jet ride to my home country and another jet ride back. It seemed almost too simple.

"Alright then," China said, clasping his hands together. "Let us allow Sweden some privacy to get dressed and then we will be on our way."

As I followed the others out from the curtained area, I gave Su-san a long parting gaze over my shoulder. He probably wouldn't have minded at all if I'd stayed there by his side. Though I'd known him only a short time, it was long enough to discover that he was not overly modest around me. And we had seen each other naked in the bath. But I continued my shuffling exit, knowing that there would be plenty of time for us to allow more intimate interaction. Yes, Su-san would have his whole, free life ahead of him.

Was it realistic of me to hope I'd be a part of it, or just the foolishness of my youth?

My back was to the curtain and it was quiet enough that I could hear the sound of fabric moving over skin behind it. The Founders and the Student Council Members had either run out of things to say or put their conversations on hold for the moment. England's thick eyebrows were furrowed in an anxious expression; I recognized his emotion as the same I felt when China ordered me upstairs. His attachment was so strong that he didn't even like having a curtain between himself and the person he cared about.

I sure was thinking a lot about relationships in the past half-hour. While I was pondering what I'd been pondering, a soft whine cut through my thoughts. Flower-Egg was wriggling her way out of Japan's hold and trying to crawl up his shoulder and over to me.

"I think she misses her master," he said.

"Oh, I'll take her," I said, reaching for her with both hands. "I would hate for her to tear a hole in your beautiful clothes." I hoped it didn't patronizing for me call traditional Japanese attire beautiful, but they really were.

Japan didn't seem bothered. He ran his eyes down one filthy sleeve then the other and replied with a dull expression. "I think the damage is already done. By the way, what is your doggie's name?"

"Ah, it's Flower-Egg," said. "It's kind of a silly name."

"Hanatamago," he said absently. When he looked at my face he must have seen the confusion because he immediately let out a tiny chuckle and explained. "Her name in Japanese."

"It sounds cuter in Japanese," I said with an amused smile.

"M ready," Su-san mumbled as he emerged from behind the curtain. Just from the way he carried himself, you'd never get the impression that he had been baking with fever less than an hour ago. For now he was perfectly healthy, having miraculously won another internal battle with Torvald.

I couldn't let myself forget that Torvald was still in there, poised to take over is anything triggered him. And Su-san's fever was hotter and lasted longer this time than it had before; the next incident could feasibly kill him. The sudden flood of fear made my skin flush. I'd better be extra careful about what I said to Su-san on this trip.

"Shall the three of us be going?" China asked.

"Four if you include Flower-Egg," I chirped back, and then quickly added, "It's okay if she comes with us, right?"

China nodded. "Of course."

Those who were staying behind saw us to the door that left the hospital and opened onto the platform for that funny little train car. My brain was too full of the task ahead of me, Su-san, and China to dwell on what sorts of things the Founders Guild and the Student Council would discuss in our absence, but I knew there was a lot left to say. Teaching mere mortals the job of running St. Hetalia in a matter of hours could not be an easy task.

I sat next to Su-san in the train car with Flower-Egg prancing between our two laps and China sitting serenely across from us. Only he knew exactly where we were going, which had to be some place easier accessed through the underground tunnels than on the surface. At first I'd thought that we were just going back the way we originally came, but after less than a minute of traveling the train car suddenly changed directions and was moving sideways. Apparently this wasn't an ordinary two-way rail system. There were a few more surprising directional changes and the journey was over very quickly.

"We've reached the hangar where we keep the jet," China said as he stood. He'd remained as calm as if he were sleeping through all the shifts that had left me (and Su-san and Flower-Egg, I figured) feeling a bit dizzy.

Just as China had said, when we stepped through the door awaiting us, we were in a hangar containing a very expensive-looking jet. It was the sort that movie stars used to escape to their vacation homes on idyllic tropical islands. Of course there would be one at the most fantastical school in the world.

"Who's going t' pil't this th'ng?" Su-san asked, nose scrunching in a way that made him look uncharacteristically cute.

"I will, of course," China answered. "Earning a pilot's license is just one of the many hobbies I've taken up over the years."

"Ah, right," I said aloud as I wondered in my head: _Is there anything China can't do?_

The inside of the jet was just as posh as the outside, with our choice of bucket seats or bench (both upholstered with red leather). Su-san chose the bench, which I took as an invitation to sit next to him, not so close that our knees were touching, but almost. China took his spot in the cockpit. Some unseen mechanism opened the enormous door to the hangar. And we were off.

I'd never traveled by jet before, so I didn't know what to expect. It may have been a particularly smooth conveyance, or China may have been a particularly good pilot. Or it may have simply been particularly easy flying weather up in the atmosphere today. I had no idea. I also had no idea how fast jets actually could fly—some boys are really into planes and trains and cars, and learn that sort of thing out of their own curiosity, but not me—so I had no idea how long the ride would last.

I was nervous, like my stomach was a popcorn popper currently in use, but I told myself that I should just relax and enjoy this moment of peace with Su-san.

"Are y' excit'd that we're go'ng t' yer homel'nd?" he said, surprising me as I'd thought that I would have to be the one to initiate a conversation. "I rem'mber y' said y' used to live in th' North."

"Yeah, but Lapland isn't super familiar to me, to tell you the truth," I admitted. "My grandparents did used to live up North and we did live with them for a while when I was little. But that was like ten years ago. I can't remember anything besides the inside of their house, and even that's cloudy."

"Oh," Su-san said, with a shallow nod of his head. His eyes held my face with widened pupils; I could tell that he was listening intently and it seemed like he found what I said genuinely interesting.

But I never felt pressured to say more than I wanted when I was with him. With some people, you feel like you have to keep talking around them even after you've run out of things to say, because being silent with them feels awkward, or because they always seem like they are expecting more. Su-san was not such a person. With Su-san, quiet moments seemed as natural and comfortable as conversation (now that I'd gotten over his intimidating aura). But if I wanted to share more, I knew that he would welcome it.

Right now, mentioning Grandma and Grandpa got me thinking about them through the hazy lens of years past. I couldn't decide if I wanted to say anything more to Su-san, though. He'd listen if I told him about them, how they were both artists who met as teenagers and started out as rivals but eventually fell in love, but maybe that would seem silly or boring to him (though I knew he'd never say so).

I decided to save it for later. Having something I intended to tell Su-san later made me feel reassured somehow that there would be many conversations in our future. Never mind that it was magical thinking.

So we spent the rest of the flight in that comfortably quiet state, playing with Flower-Egg. Even my anxiety about the mission felt distant when we were like this. I actually managed to drift off into a nap for a while, though I had no idea how long. I was awoken by the sound of China's voice from the cockpit area.

"Alright, boys, I'm putting her down," he called back.

I rubbed the remaining sleep from my eyes and braced myself for a bumpy landing. Su-san was of a similar mind, it seemed, gripping the leather seat with one hand while the other strapped Flower-Egg to his chest. But the descent, much like the rest of the flight, was surprisingly smooth, with the only bump coming when the landing gear actually hit ground. The jet rolled briefly before coming to a complete stop. The little round porthole offered a darkened glimpse of trees as the only clue to our location.

China emerged into the cabin of the jet looking composed, but with a subtle trace of a lingering flush on his face, the residue of recent exhilaration. I knew that he must truly love to fly, even if he tried to play it cool. But this trip would be his final flight, and the instant I thought about that, my stomach did a half-twist.

"I was able to get us quite close," he said, either not sensing my sudden twinge of unease or choosing to ignore it. He had an electric lantern in one hand, already turned on. "We're less than one kilometer from Astrid's final resting place, where the final Crystal Star resides. Are you ready to retrieve it?"

I stood up and gathered my confidence into my voice. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Su-san stood beside me and touched my shoulder very lightly. "Let's go."

The climate was perceptibly different the moment I stepped out of the jet. It wasn't cold, but there was a crispness to the breeze that indicated the encroaching edge of Autumn. The rich, earthy smells of conifers and moist loam permeated the air and I could feel the soft give of the ground beneath my feet when I stepped onto it. The majority of the sky was dyed purple by now, but there was still a thick ribbon of glowing magenta on one horizon, setting the jagged shapes of mountains into stark, black contrast. The remnants of daylight filtered through tall, old growth trees that cast snarled shadows across the small clearing where we'd landed. This was wilderness.

China had managed to put the jet down on a remarkably short runway, a flat strip of exposed rock. It was probably excavated and leveled off by humans at some point, the site of an ancient settlement perhaps, but the lack of other man-made structures indicated that this place had been abandoned long ago.

There was something primeval about this setting. And also something eerily familiar. The rustic smell, the trees, the silhouettes of mountains behind them; beautiful as it was, none of it felt new to me.

"Y' okay, T'no?" Su-san asked.

I looked up at him, blinking the glaze from my eyes. "I'm fine," I said. But it didn't feel right to keep things from him, so I added, "I just got a sudden sense of déjà vu, like I've been here before."

Su-san raised an eyebrow. "Yer grandpar'nts lived 'round here?"

"Maybe," I said, as that seemed like the most reasonable explanation. "Or maybe it's just all in my head."

He didn't say anything else in response, just reached down and took my hand.

"Step lively now," China called, plunging right into the forest and beckoning us to follow. "I'll lead the way, but you have to keep up."

We followed. Su-san didn't let go of my left hand and my right was holding Flower-Egg, who, after so much frolicking on the ride, was perfectly content to be carried around like a stuffed toy for a while. Having both of them there with me kept me anchored to the present even as the strange sense of recognition grew stronger. But there was foreignness, as well, like I had indeed been here before but that everything had been just a little bit different. Could this really be close to the place I visited as a small boy?

No, that wasn't it. When we passed a distinctive tree with particularly gnarled trunk, I knew right away that I had been here much more recently. It was last night.

I gave Su-san's hand a jerk to get his attention, but kept us walking at a quick pace so we wouldn't fall outside the illuminated radius around China's lantern. "Su-san," I said, hushed but urgent. "I figured it out. I had a dream about this exact forest last night. Only, in my dream, it was covered in snow. And it was bigger. Or, well, I think I was smaller. But it was definitely this forest."

His feet stalled; I felt my hand pulling backward as I walked, but instead of slowing down I tugged him gently so he'd pick up the pace. I didn't want this to be a stop-in-your-tracks conversation—it was just a dream after all—but I didn't want Su-san to think I was opposed to talking about it with him. "Do I sound crazy about now?" I asked to let him know I wasn't shutting him out.

"No," he said. "Do y' th'nk it might've been a pr'monition?"

"Couldn't be," I replied with a somewhat nervous chuckle. "It's colder here than at the school, but nowhere near snow temperatures. And in my dream there was a lot of snow, up to my waist at least." The more I talked about the dream the more details started to float back up to the surface of my consciousness, including a very important one. "You were there, too, Su-san. At least… I think you were…" Was my brain really remembering, or just making stuff up now?

"Y' dream'd 'bout me?" He sounded surprised but a little bit pleased.

My face went suddenly warm. "Yes, I hope you don't mind." It was another dumb, teenager-with-a-crush thing to say. As if I had any control over what I dreamt about.

"I don't mind 't all," he said. "I've had dreams 'bout you, too."

Rather than putting me at ease, his confession made the heat spread, like a fiery rash, from my face to my neck and chest and I was glad we weren't face-to-face because I was sure my coloring was bright red. "What was your dream about?" I asked.

He didn't hesitate like I expected him to. "You 'nd me were on a vacation t'gether 'n th' Unit'd States. There was a tiny little boy th't look'd like th' Stud'nt Counc'l Presid'nt 'nd y' chased 'im 'nto th' woods. It was…" Now he did hesitate, but only for a moment, before saying, "…cute."

"That does sound like a cute dream," I said. "It's pretty easy to imagine the President as a little kid, since he still acts like one a lot of the time."

We laughed over his dream—Su-san provided just a few quiet laughs, but I could tell he was amused—as we quickened our steps to catch up to China. That was all it took for me to stop worrying about my own dream.

Then China stopped, and when we reached him, we stopped, too. What I saw in front of us turned my skin to goose flesh. We were at the base of a rocky cliff, staring into the yawning black mouth of a cave.

I was certain there had been a cave in my dream. I couldn't remember what had been inside it.

"We have to go inside there, don't we?" I asked warily.

"It's really not too deep," China said with one of his soothing, serene smiles. "You'll be fine." Then he reached into a satchel that he wore over his shoulder and pulled out another lantern, a smaller version of his. He turned it on and handed it to me. "Here, you'll need this. I'll wait out here while you and Sweden get the Star."

This sent another small wave on anxiety on the sea of my stomach. "You aren't coming in with us?"

"I know you boys will be okay on your own," said China. "Now, it's about ten meters in. Astrid's tomb is made of stone, carved with her sleeping likeness atop it. The Star is inlaid between her collarbones, where a necklace would fall."

"Ten meters, stone tomb, necklace," I paraphrased back. "I got it."

"Hnn, I think I j'st got a flash 'f that d'ja vu," said Su-san. "I'll go in f'rst."

"No," I said firmly. I'd just made a split-second decision. While my déjà vu from last night's dream was eerie, Su-san's was dangerous; if this cave felt familiar to him it wasn't due to any memories of his own. "Torvald is still trapped in your body, Su-san," I explained. "Seeing Astrid's tomb is a prime example of something that would trigger him to seize control. You can't go in there."

For a second or two, he just stared back at me with a stunned expression, as if I'd just slapped him across his face. "Yer f'rbidding me?" he said, baffled.

I guess he didn't expect me to give him an order like that, but I wasn't going to back down and I made that fact clear by keeping my features sternly fixed. "You stay here with China and Flower-Egg. I'll go in, get the Star, and come right back out. I promise not to dawdle."

Su-san's eyebrows scrunched down, changing his expression from surprised to anxious. He wanted to object, I could tell, but I felt very touched when he didn't, opting to respect my wishes. "Y' have t' be safe, T'no," he said.

"I will," I told him. Then I transferred Flower-Egg gently to his hands and turned to face the cave.

The mouth of the cave was not very big; despite being on the short side, I had to stoop to get inside. But once I was in, the space opened up and I could stand up straight. In my head, I repeated China's instructions and started to estimate how far in I had come and how much further I had to go with each step. When the light from my lantern fell on an interesting shape in front of me, I recognized the features of a human face in profile and knew that I had found what I was looking for.

_So this is Astrid_, I thought as I illuminated her funeral portrait. Immediately, I saw the resemblance that had caused an identity crisis for Torvald. Astrid's nose, chin, cheekbones, even the way her hair fell across her forehead looked remarkably like me. It made me shudder; if it weren't for the female body, I could be looking at a marble likeness of myself posed in my final sleep.

But I couldn't let the strangeness of what I saw distract me from my mission. This was to be a get-in-get-out maneuver. I shined my lantern over her carved collarbones and saw the distinct shape of a star, but when I reached out to touch, my fingers felt an empty indentation. My heart stopped beating and plummeted down into my feet. The Crystal Star was missing.

_No! No! This can't be happening!_ In spite of my immediate panic—my heart had resumed beating at a galloping pace—I was fortunately able to keep my thoughts inside my head and not shout out loud anything that would alarm Su-san outside and draw him into cave. I couldn't give up on the possibility that it was still in here somewhere and had merely been knocked lose by some animal or force of nature.

So my scrambling search began. I checked the cave floor all around the tomb first, doing my best not to think about the dead body that was so close to me, and found nothing. I increased my search radius, but still, nothing. Crap, I was going to have to go in deeper. Beyond Astrid's tomb, the floor made a dramatic slope downwards, the perfect terrain for a small jewel to tumble down. It was steep, and my lantern's light couldn't reach very far ahead, but that is where I had to go.

As I took the first step, Su-san's voice came to me in echoes. "D'd y' find 't (it it), T'no (oh oh)?"

"Almost (most most)," I called back, a stinging lie. "I just need to…" And that's when my shoe landed on loose gravel, slipped out from under me. In an instant, I was on was on back, sliding headfirst down a rocky slope incurring all sorts of cuts and scrapes and moving too fast to stop myself. A long, panicked yell issued instinctively from my mouth. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" It didn't stop until I did, when my head collided with solid stone at the bottom of the slope and everything went black.

_I can hear the fire before I even open my eyes, popping and cracking, and when the lids lift from my eyes, there is the dancing orange and yellow. My head is resting on something warm and soft, a boy's knee, and there is a wool jacket, his jacket, over my body. It takes just a moment to remember that this is the boy who carried me through the snow after I collapsed. I have to thank him._

_"You… you saved me. I don't even know your name. Mine… mine's Tino." My voice is barely more than a weak croak._

"_M' name is B'rwald," the boy says. His accent is funny and he mumbles slightly, but to me his voice sounds like pure kindness. "Are y' feel'ng bett'r now th't yer warm'd up?"_

"_Yeah," I say as sit up and face him directly. "I feel a lot better, thanks to you, Berwald. Mummi says you can freeze to death if you fall asleep in the snow so that means you saved my life."_

_His cheeks are already pink, but they stain a darker shade when he hears this. I hadn't gotten a good look at his face, besides his sharp blue-green eyes, when we were out in the snow, but now I can finally see him clearly. He has a serious look to him, something about the hard lines of his eyebrows and mouth that might have made him seem scary if I didn't know that this was the boy who saved my life. _

"_You don't like to talk much, do you?" I ask, and he just shakes his head. "That's okay, Berwald. So do you think our families will find us soon?"_

"_Might take awhile 'n th's snow," he says, turning to look out the mouth of the cave where snow is now falling so thick that it is almost a solid curtain of white. "So y' were out w'th yer fam'ly 'nd got separat'd?"_

_I can feel embarrassment oozing up into my face and I shrink down in my spot, refusing to look Berwald in the eyes while I make my confession. "I… I thought I saw a rabbit and I ran after it. And then I got lost. I guess it was probably you that I saw. Not a rabbit at all." I let my eyes connect with Berwald's and am surprised to find that he looks a little amused. He's actually smiling._

"_I was out w'th m' par'nts 'nd I heard someth'ng," he says. "Went aft'r it. T'rns out it was you, T'no."_

_Now I put on a smile to match his. "I guess we were meant to meet each other here. It's pretty lucky there's a cave and that you knew where it was." I suddenly feel a wave of anxiety. "You don't think there are wolves or bears in here, do you?"_

_He shrugs his shoulders. "That's why 'm stay'ng near th' 'ntrance 'nd not going in too deep."_

_In curiosity, my eyes roam to the blackened depths of the cave. I want to know what is back there, I can't help it. The urge to explore is like an itchy bug bite that I know I shouldn't scratch. "Wanna go look?" I ask Berwald, very cautiously as I don't know what he will say._

"_Nnn…" His face scrunches up, lips pucker. I can tell that he doesn't approve of my idea, but I sense that he's conflicted about whether and how to tell me. "It could be d'ngerous, T'no. But if y' really want t' look…"_

_Yes! Permission, albeit grudging, has been given. Set away from he fire is a pile of extra twigs and branches that Berwald must have gathered while I slept as additional fuel. I grab the biggest branch I see—it's nearly as long as my arms span and a little awkward to hold—and touch one end of it to the fire until it lights. This will be my torch._

_On the inside, I admit to myself that I am scared venturing into the dark like this, but I refuse to let it show, especially with Berwald watching. I remember what Mummi said about sisu. I've got to be tough. The steady sound of Berwald's small feet landing on the stone floor behind me makes me feel safer._

_My branch torch is only bright enough to illuminate a small area in front of me, but there really isn't a lot to see anyways. This cave is just an ordinary, empty cave a far as I can tell, and now my early fear is melting away into boredom. I am about to turn around and go back to the entrance when I see it; I'm not sure what it is, but it is definitely something interesting. It's just a strangely shaped rock until I bring the fire close, and then it is revealed as a beautiful stone woman sleeping on a massive stone block._

"_Whoa!" I say through a mouth widened with awe. "Who do you think she is, Berwald? Who do you think put her here?" He doesn't answer so I turn and look at him. In the firelight I can see his face is still worried. "What's wrong?"_

"_I don't th'nk we should be th's far in…" he mumbles. "C'mon, T'no, let's head back."_

_I pout, a little disappointed. But I really don't want to upset him, and he is a bigger kid than me, so he probably knows a bit more. "Okay, okay," I sigh. "We can go back… after I get a closer look at her. It'll only take a minute."_

"_Nnn… Okay, but b' caref'l," he says. Then he adds, unexpectedly, "Sh' kind 'f looks like you."_

_Being compared to a stone woman confuses me a little, but I don't think about it too much. I hand the torch to Berwald to hold and instruct him, "Shine it on her face, okay?" Then I climb up onto the strange sculpture, which is a tricky feat on account of how much bigger than me she is. I perch on her chest and stare down at her peaceful face. "She must've been a queen or something," I ponder out loud. "I wonder why there's a statue of her in a cave."_

_Berwald offers a little grunt to indicate that he doesn't know. He shifts the fire closer and something suddenly sparkles into life near the edge of my sight. It steals my attention immediately. _

"_Hey! There's a treasure!" I exclaim. "I think it might be a diamond!" It certainly looks like a diamond, a glittering, star-shaped diamond at the base of the sleeping woman's neck. The reds and oranges and yellows of the flame sparkle so beautifully on its surfaces. I want it. I want the sparkling jewel as my own personal treasure and a memento of this adventure with my new friend, Berwald._

_My little fingers pry greedily at the diamond, but it won't budge. I need tools. As I slide off the statue, I catch a glimpse of Berwald's silently disapproving face and it makes the center of my chest feel hot and uncomfortable. I want to say that it's not really stealing because she is isn't a real lady, but I'm afraid of what his response might be—that it will be something that convinces me that what I am about to do really is wrong._

_I find the right rocks, a small, thin one for chiseling and a big heavy one for hammering, and make the climb back up. I've watched my grandfather in his workshop enough times to know what I'm doing. I position my chisel and raise my hammer, and then I bring it down, carefully so I don't smash my fingers. It takes several well-aimed, heavy strikes, but I manage to knock that little star loose. My heart thumps wildly when I hold the jewel in the palm of my hand. I feel excited, but also anxious and guilty. It is selfish of me to take this for myself._

"_Hey, Berwald," I say. "How about we break it in half so that we can both have a piece? Then next time we meet we'll know each other because both of us will have half of our treasure."_

"_Errr… I d'nno…" he grumbles. "I th'nk y' should j'st put it back, T'no."_

"_But we found it, right? Finders keepers." I pull myself up on my knees to give me more height to slam my hammer from—diamonds are super strong from what I've heard—and I lift the heavy rock high above my head. But before I can bring it down, I'm suddenly teetering; the weight of the rock has me off-balance and my knees don't offer enough support. I'm going to fall off._

"_I've got y'!" Berwald shouts, and I can hear the scurrying of his shoes in the split second before I tumble backwards from my spot on the stone lady's chest and land on top of him. He's caught me, but the force of the catch knocks him backwards, and then it only takes one false step and he's falling away from me._

"_Berwald!" I cry out. Quickly, I grab the torch he'd set down so he could catch me and aim it where he'd just been. One step away from where I stand, the floor suddenly angles steeply down and can still hear the sound of him bumping and rolling over rough terrain; this hill must be really big. Since it is too steep to climb safely, I resort to sliding on my bottom to get down to him. My heart is beating so fast. "Hang on, Berwald! I'm coming!"_

_At the bottom of the slope I find Berwald, sprawled out and unconscious, and the claws of panic grab me. I move the torch light close to his face. A gruesome gash mars his forehead and is oozing dark blood. Terrified, I crouch down and shake his shoulder vigorously with my free hand. _

"_Wake up, Berwald! Get up! Please! You have to get up!" I shout over and over but he doesn't stir. This is the scariest moment of my life; my new friend is hurt badly and there are no grown-ups to help. Tears sting my eyes and all thoughts of being tough are abandoned for a moment as I let myself sob. But it is only for a moment because that is how long it takes me to realize that my crying isn't going to help Berwald one bit. I wipe my face on my sleeve and get to work._

_I know I have to get him to the front of the cave where our campfire is, where we have the best chance of being found. It's going to be a long, uphill journey, though, and I can already tell when I hook my free hand into his armpit that I am not going to be able to drag him this way. I need both arms, which means I am going to have to ditch my torch and move in the dark. I take a deep breath—the air, in my mind, is like courage that I am pulling into my body—then I smother the burning end on the stick in the gravel near my feet and discard it. I grab Berwald beneath both shoulders and start to drag him up the steep hill._

_It's tough work; Berwald is bigger than me and heavier. My guiding light is the very dim glow of the campfire in the otherwise pitch-black cavern, but since I am walking backwards, I only see it when I turn my head. By the time we reach it, I am coated with perspiration even though it is freezing cold in this cave._

_My heart sinks when I look at Berwald again. He still hasn't opened his eyes, even after being dragged and jostled so much. The whole left side of his face is painted red with the blood from his head wound. His chest is moving up and down, but slowly and shallowly. I am overwhelmed with the sick feeling that if help doesn't get here he's going to die._

_I cup my hands around my mouth and holler out of the mouth of the cave. "Help! Somebody! Help! Anybody! I need help! Please! My friend is hurt!" But the sound of my voice is absorbed into the curtain of falling snow. Still, I keep yelling until my throat is raw and sore. _

_When my voice is totally spent, I come back to the fire and collapse against Berwald's chest and, once again, I start sobbing. This time, I cry so intensely that my entire body shakes. "Berwald, wake up! Wake up!" The sound is just a hoarse squeak._

_A sudden gasp cuts through my wailing and makes me jolt upright. Berwald's eyes flick wide open and two dark, perfect circles stare up at me._

"_B-Berwald?" I ask. Something feels just a little off about him and it makes my words come out clumsily "Are you okay? Does your head hurt? Your eyes, they look kind of funny…"_

_He blinks several times before his lips slide apart. "How did I get here?" he asks as he holds up one hand in front of his face and stares at it. His voice isn't right; his accent is gone and he isn't mumbling. _

_My stomach squirms with worry. "I… I dragged you up from where you fell and hit your head. I think you might have hurt your brain. You're talking funny, Berwald."_

_He sits up, still acting very strange—it sort of makes me think of a cartoon movie where the heroine is magically transformed and is moving in her new body for the first time—and he looks at me. An unfamiliar smile twists on his lips. "Berwald? Is that the name of this body?"_

_I feel like I've just jumped into an icy river. "You aren't Berwald?" I ask in a voice so thin it is barely there. "Who… are you?"_

_By now the stranger has gotten up onto his feet, so I do the same. With the fire lighting his eyes from below, I can see just how different they've become; instead of blue-green, they are dark, dark blue. This person is far more frightening than even my first impression of Berwald had been. He steps over to me and chucks me under the chin with cold fingers. I'm too scared to wrench my face away, but I don't want to look into his foreign eyes._

"_Don't you recognize me?" he asks smoothly. "You were calling out for help and I came to you." He smoothes his hand across my cheek and it makes me tremble; I don't like it. "Your voice sounds just like hers. Your eyes… your eyes are just like hers, too. You are my Astrid. That is why you were able to bring me into this body."_

"_No!" The word bursts from somewhere deep in my chest and I shove away the stranger as I shout it. "Get out! Whoever you are, get out of Berwald's body! I'm not Astrid! I'm Tino and I don't want you here! Go away and bring back Berwald!"_

_He responds to my demands with a lunge, grabbing both my upper arms in his tight talons. I gasp, but I can't escape. "I don't think you understand," he says in a sweet hiss. "I healed the wound on this boy's forehead. I saved his life because you called for me. And now that I have seen you, I will never leave this body. I will never let you go, Astrid." _

_Then he pulls me against his chest and folds me into an embrace I can't escape. I struggle as hard as I can, but his arms are unnaturally strong. "Berwald, snap out of it! Come on! Please! I need you to come back, Berwald! Berwaaaaald!" On the last cry of his name, the body holding me suddenly goes limp and becomes a hot weight leaning on me. It feels like being pressed against a space heater._

_I ease him to the ground and touch my palm to his forehead. He's burning with fever; that must be why he was acting funny. My mother told me that sometimes people act very strange when they have a high fever. I need to cool him down, so I do the only thing I can think of: I drag him out of the cave and into the meter-deep snow. _

_One step out and we are both lost in white._

_It's so cold that it doesn't hurt; no knives of pain like I expected._

_So cold it numbs my brain, slows down my thoughts, makes me sleepy._

_My eyes slide closed._

_My eyes open. Above me is a high ceiling made of wooden beams. The smells of fire and coffee and food fill my nostrils. This is my grandparents' cabin. I am in my bed, tucked under a thick quilt, and warm hands are holding each of mine. I turn to look on either side of me._

"_Mama, Papa," I feel excited but my voice is too weak to convey it. "You found us."_

_They cover my forehead and cheeks with kisses and start apologizing right away. "We're so sorry we didn't get to you sooner! We're so sorry that we let you get away from us. Oh, Tino! When I think of what could have happened to you out there!" Mama is on the verge of tears as she says this._

"_Mama, I'm okay," I tell her. "It was my fault. I'm the one who wandered away." I sit up in bed, which seems to make her and Papa nervous for a moment. "Where is Berwald?"_

"_Berwald?" Papa asks. "You mean the little Swedish boy who was with you?"_

_I nod vigorously. "What happened to him? Where is he?"_

"_He left with his parents," he says. "We met them while we were all searching for you boys. Yeah, that boy was running a really hot fever when we found you, but some of your grandmother's homemade medicine was able to bring it down. He woke about a little while ago. His folks took him to the hospital just to be safe."_

_I blink in surprise. "He was here?"_

"_Right in bed next to you," Papa says._

"_Did he… did he say anything funny when he woke up?" I ask anxiously._

_Papa shakes his head. "Not a very talkative kid. And when he did talk he mumbled a lot. Said he was glad that he wasn't alone out there. Oh, and he told me to give you this." _

_I reach out my hand and Papa places a small object in it. Without even looking I can feel that it is the star I took from that statue and my tummy feels sour all of the sudden. _

"_That's a pretty jewel," says Mama. "You should take could care of it, especially since it was a gift from your friend."_

_I can't even form a reply. It wasn't a gift. I stole it. And because I stole, Berwald got hurt, got sick and started acting all funny. He could have died from his head wound or his fever and he had to go to the hospital. All because I had to have this stupid little rock. I squeeze it in my sweaty fist._

"_Do you think you are up to eating something?" Mama says, unable to hear my thoughts and moving right along._

_My previously sour stomach gurgles right on cue. "Yes, please," I say. _

"_And I'll go get a book to read you. How does that sound?" asks Papa._

"_That sounds good," I say, though my mind is far away. _

_For a few minutes, they are both out of the room and I am alone with my thoughts. Now I can let the tears I've been holding in trickle down my face._

I've got to get rid of the star, the reminder of my crime. It is a souvenir of all the trouble I caused for Berwald. Berwald was kind to me, saved my life, and I got him hurt.

When I close my eyes, I can still hear his voice saying my name. "T'no… T'no?"

"T'no! Wake up!"

"What? Huh?" I woke with a start, disoriented and blinking rapidly. My head throbbed. It took several seconds for me to realize that I was in Berwald's arms, that we were standing outside in the middle of a forest, and that I had just experienced an extraordinarily vivid flashback.

Yes, it wasn't a dream. It was a memory.

"Oh my god! Berwald!" As I cried out his name, I felt his body jump in surprise. But I just buried my face in his sweater and wailed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, Berwald. It's all my fault. It's all my fault."

He squeezed me a little tighter. "I d'nno what yer talk'ng 'bout, T'no," he said. "D'd y' not find th' star in there b'fore y' fell 'nd hit yer head?"

"No, no, no," I squeaked, shaking my head. My voice grew louder and the pitch grew higher as I continued and more emotion bubbled from my recovered memory and into the present. "I didn't fall and hit my head! You did, Berwald! And it's all my fault! It's my fault that Torvald possessed you!" My chest heaved; I was starting to hyperventilate.

"Try to calm down," China's voice of reason chimed in. "You're confused. You've just awoken after incurring a rather serious head injury. We heard you scream and Sweden went inside the cave and brought you out. You do remember where you are, right?"

I turned my eyes to China and the sight of his peaceful face helped to ease my agitation and slow my breathing down to an almost normal rate. "Yeah," I said with a nod. "We're in Northern Finland, outside the cave where Astrid's tomb is. We came here to find the last Crystal Star."

China smiled. "That's right." Then his face became more serious. "Did you find it in there?"

"It's not in there," I told him. "Not anymore." My gaze returned to Berwald, to his handsome face with the bright blue-green eyes. He didn't remember that day we met. It wasn't too far-fetched that he could forget it; after all, I had forgotten, too, until I hit my head tonight. If he could remember, if he realized that I had brought this curse upon him, would he ever forgive me?

"I was really w'rried when I heard y' yell," he said to me. "M glad yer okay, T'no."

My eyes glazed with new tears. I knew I had to come clean and tell him. I wetted my lips before opening them. "Berwald, I…"

"Hold on," China interrupted. "You said, 'Not anymore.' What did you mean by that? Do you know where the Star is?"

To my own amazement, I did. I lifted a hand and pointed one finger at the little ball of white fluff nestled in China's arms. "She has it."

"What?" China and Berwald said in unison.

"I th'nk y' hit yer head pr'tty hard," Berwald continued. "Flow'r-Egg's a dog."

"No, it's true," I said. "Check her collar."

Without needing any further instructions, China removed Flower-Egg's collar and then handed her off to me. He pulled from his satchel a pocketknife, which he inserted into the seam between the front and back halves of the silver, star-shaped Christmas ornament turned zipper pull turned dog collar charm. One twist and it opened like a clam, and the tiny Crystal Star fell out into the palm of China's hand. It had been hiding in plain sight, right under our noses, the whole time.

Before either had a chance to ask, I answered the question I knew must be on tips of both their tongues. "That's where I hid it, ten years ago. I wanted to get rid of it because it reminded me of the terrible thing I'd done. But in the end I couldn't because it was the only proof I'd had that you really existed, Berwald, that meeting you wasn't just in my imagination." I closed my eyes and released a long, regretful sigh. "But I forgot about you anyways."

To be continued…


	18. Chapter 17 & Epilogue

Free Talk: Here it is, the final chapter of Outcast along with the epilogue. I really hope that everyone likes it and feels it is a fitting end (though it could never be a fraction as awesome as the LOST finale). Thank you all so very much for reading. For your kind, generous words and encouragement. For adding this story to alert lists and favorite lists. For overlooking typos and continuity and cultural errors. For creating gorgeous art. For caring about this story. I would be thrilled if everyone who has Outcast on their favorites list or alert list would leave a review just to tell me why they added it, what they liked and where I could use improvement. But that is an unrealistic wish. I certainly don't expect everyone to do that. But I figure it couldn't hurt to ask. Pretty please? Thank you. Enjoy.

**Outcast**  
By Angelsaurus

Chapter 17

A deep ache penetrated the center of my chest, but I couldn't identify if the main source was what I'd done to Berwald ten years ago or the fact that I had forgotten about it until now. They were like two puncture wounds too close together to be distinguished. The undeserved kindness of Berwald's arms was suddenly more than I could bear.

"P-please, set me down," I said in a quaking voice.

He hesitated for just a moment before doing as I asked and setting me on my feet without question. The look on his face was a mix of confusion and subtle hurt. Dang, I'd just made him feel worse.

"I don't deserve to be treated so kindly by you," I insisted, trying to make clear that I found nothing objectionable about his arms. "After what I did to you, and then forgetting about it."

His eyes held my face with a sort of baffled awe. "Well, I don't r'member it eith'r. Though it's hard t' b'lieve I wouldn' r'member meet'ng y'. Seems like… y'd be 'mposs'ble t' f'rget, T'no."

"But you've had Torvald messing around with your brain," I said, and the words had an acidic taste in my mouth because I knew I was the one who had summoned Torvald, albeit by accident, and brought all his devastation upon every aspect of poor Berwald's life. "And it's not like you did something horribly wrong that should've haunted you from that day on. I have no excuse for forgetting you, Berwald, for forgetting what I did to you."

Berwald scrunched his eyebrows low, curious but skeptical. "What exactly d' y' th'nk y' did t' me?" he asked, and his tone made it seem like he thought I was just overreacting to having lost one of his mittens or something.

It was too heartbreaking to look into his trusting eyes when I confessed so I cut my gaze to the side. "Well, first you saved me," I said guiltily—it certainly didn't help matters that he had saved my life right before I'd ruined his. "We were out in the snow, in a blizzard, and I was buried and freezing. You pulled me out and carried me to a cave, _this_ cave, and you got a fire started." Now came the turn for the worse and my voice cracked in anticipation. "When I woke up, I wanted to explore the cave, even though you thought it was a bad idea. I found Astrid's tomb—well, now that I think about it, I guess it's Torvald's tomb, too—and I stole the Crystal Star. You told me to put it back, but I didn't listen. And then I fell and I knocked you down the same hill I fell down tonight. Like me, you hit your head and passed out. And I couldn't wake you up. I dragged you back to the fire and screamed and screamed for anyone to… to h-help…" I was starting to choke on my words, which had devolved into froggy croaks.

"Sound like y' did good," said Berwald, and his hand touched my shoulder with tenderness I didn't deserve.

"N-no!" I hiccupped. Again, the gentle physical contact he was giving me was too much to take and I pushed his hand off of me. "That's when Torvald showed up! He answered my calls for help and he hasn't left you since! All the tragedy that has plagued your life, Berwald, is all my fault!" A long pause followed where the only sound was my loud, ragged breathing.

"T'no…" His voice came back, just louder than a whisper, and his hand returned with feather lightness to my shoulder. "Y' didn' mean t' summ'n th' guy. Y' didn' ask 'im t' hurt 'nyone. But y' said he heal'd m' head. If he didn' show up at all, I might not b' here t'day."

As he spoke, he'd moved slowly closer to me, added his other hand to my other shoulder. I didn't push him away this time. I wasn't worthy of his kindness, but right now it felt like having his hands on me was the only thing keeping my heart beating. Words trembled from my mouth. "If… if I had just listened to you in the first place, you… you wouldn't have gotten hurt at all… Or if you'd never met me at all…"

He folded me into his arms. "I don't wish I nev'r met y', T'no. D' y' wish y' nev'r met me?"

My eyes immediately flashed upwards. "No! Of course not! I… just wish that I'd acted differently when we met! That I hadn't been so headstrong and… and…"

"Advent'rous?" Berwald supplied, one eyebrow very slightly cocked. This was about as close to a playful smirk as his face was capable of, but what struck me the most was that he showed absolutely no signs of being upset with me. "But I like th' advent'rous you," he said. "That's th' you th't decided t' break th' curse 'nd save me."

"It's not so much saving you as rectifying my own horrible mistake," I said, face flushed with shame.

"Y' didn' know y'd play'd 'ny part 'n it when you chose t' help," he said. "Y' just help'd me b'cause yer th' f'rst pers'n who ev'r want'd t' break th' curse. Yer j'st kind th't way." His right hand had slid up from my shoulder and now cupped my cheek, and although it was just the sort of unmanly display I normally tried to avoid (and I still didn't think I deserved it), I leaned my face into the warm cradle of his palm and let my tears roll onto his knuckles. "Please, don't cry, T'no," he soothed.

"I can't help it," I said between sniffs. "I want to take back what happened ten years ago and rewrite your past, Berwald."

"Nob'dy can change th' past," he said. "Waste 'f time t' ev'n try. But… y' did manage t' change my future. That's someth'ng t' be proud 'f."

It was one of those lines that you hear in a movie and snicker about with your friends, but when Berwald said it in his awkward, mumbled, sincere way, I found it absolutely beautiful. "I think you changed my future, too," I said. I maintained the connection between our two sets of eyes even though the slurry emotions it sent flowing through me—gratitude, affection, regret, hope, fear—was almost overwhelming and made me feel a little sick in my stomach. "That is, if you still want to be a part of it."

"Y' know th't I do," he said. "I wouldn've been able t' take back ov'r m' own body when y' offer'd it t' me if I didn' want it. Know'ng what y' did 'n th' past doesn' change th't."

My heart did a fast beat when I realized he was referring to what I had yelled during Torvald's fight against Russia. Those words hadn't been premeditated; they'd come out raw and instinctual and in the end they nearly got Berwald killed. But there was truth in them. I did want Berwald in my life and right now I was surer of that than ever. "Can you really forgive me?"

That small, peerlessly kind smile of his unfurled on his face. "Y' mean for what y' did when y' were five? I 'lready have. I wish th't I could r'member y' as a little kid, though. Maybe it'll come back t' me with time."

A feeling of trepidation settled like a weight on my chest. "Maybe you'll take back what you just said if you remember."

I tried to look away now, but his hand, which was still on my cheek, moved under my jaw and tilted my face back up towards his. The tiny smile had spread a little wider, like a late flower very slowly starting to blossom. "I j'st want t' p'cture how cute y' were back th'n," he said.

My face glowed hotly at the comment and I wondered if Berwald would ever lose the ability to completely disarm me with his guileless affection. I might never be able to match him in that quality, but I could try. "I remember what you looked like," I said, trying to sound unabashed but coming off as self-conscious anyways. "When you first appeared to me, Berwald, I thought you looked like an angel." And on the last word, I reached up and touched his cheek.

That was enough to render him beet red and speechless. I'd bested him at his own game, and for a tingling moment, I just watched his face. He really was cute.

"Okay boys," China cut in. His voice sounded just the tiniest bit impatient. "You two will have plenty of time to reminisce." That was wonderfully true. "But right now there are people waiting for us back at Saint Hetalia. We really should get going."

I couldn't say that it sat quite right in my head to think about the other five members of the Founders' Guild eagerly awaiting their demise. That was the part of this plan I was not happy about: the only way to rid Berwald of his possession would end the lives of all the Founders. The fact that this was something that they all wanted still didn't make me excited about playing such an integral role.

As we walked back through the forest to the jet, Berwald slipped his hand into mine and I felt comforted. "I th'nk there's a f'rst aid kit on th' j't," he said. "I'll clean up th' cut on yer head fer y'."

I furrowed my brow and immediately winced at the pain it produced. Funny, I'd totally forgotten about the injury. Now it felt sore and swollen. But, like all wounds, it would heal.

By the time we were back inside the cabin of the jet, I felt like I had lead weights stashed in my pockets; I was just plain tired. Berwald looked exhausted too. Neither of us remembered to look for the first aid kit, both just sank down onto the leather bench. We fell asleep leaning against one another, arms tangled together and Flower-Egg snuggled on our contiguous laps.

Berwald woke me gently with nudges of his elbow, but I still experienced a moment of annoyance at being pulled out of my peaceful slumber. I must have been sleeping deeply. "Hey, wha's the big deal?" I mumbled, scrubbing my face with the sleeve of my sweater. It took less than two seconds for me to reacquaint myself with the here and now; we were still on the jet, which was still in the air.

"Ch'na j'st said we're 'bout five m'nutes from th' school," Berwald said. "Though I was 'njoying watch'ng y' sleep, T'no."

I started to feel a twinge of embarrassment but quickly remembered how much I'd liked watching him sleep and decided on the spot that his behavior was acceptable. Apparently he'd been awake for a little while and done more than just sit and watch; when I reached up to scratch an itch on my forehead, there was an adhesive bandage over my wound. "You patched me up?"

Berwald nodded. "Nnn. Surpris'd y' didn' wake up. Y' sleep really deep."

There wasn't a clock in the cabin of the jet. I had no idea of how long we'd been gone, especially since I had spent portions of both flights asleep. I suppose if I had known, and if I had been one of those boys who are into planes and how fast they can fly, I might have been able to make an informed guess as to where Saint Hetalia Academy was actually located. It honestly wasn't very important to me. I was just fine thinking of it as existing in its own little pocket of the universe, a strange and magical school where the unbelievable happened.

I felt the bump of landing gear hitting the ground and my inside contents stirred. We had the last Crystal Star now. Were we going to go straight to the Foundation Stone and take care of business, so to speak? Was it going to be a formal ceremony of some sort? How exactly was this going to play out, I wondered?

Well, I was going to find out very soon.

I stood up stiffly and offered Berwald my hand to help him up. We emerged from the jet into the same big hangar where we started. China had disembarked ahead of us and was waiting. He had a contented look on his face that just didn't seem right to me considering that he was so close to the end of his long, long life.

"Do either of you need to go back to your room for any reason, or shall we proceed directly to the Foundation Stone?" he asked.

"Proceed," I said. Then I looked up at Berwald, who nodded in agreement. "The more we delay, the more nervous I think I'll get." I felt a little pang of guilt from wanting to hasten the Founders' deaths, but I reminded myself, again, that this is what they wanted. And it was the only was to save Berwald.

We passed through the door back into the school's underground train system and boarded the waiting boxcar in silence. I hadn't noticed all the little mechanical sounds produced by the train during my previous rides, even though there had been no more conversation then than there was now. The clanks and whirs were an unseen choir this time. Maybe it was because I was more aware of the lack of talking this time, and aware of things I still needed to say and wouldn't have another chance to. Not to Berwald, of course. I still had many years to say everything I wanted to say to him. But there were things I had to say to China.

But how to even start? China had made an impression on me the very night I arrived here at Saint Hetalia. He'd seemed wise beyond his years—this was back when I thought that his years numbered somewhere in the ballpark of sixteen—and he'd made me feel like I belonged at this school. Now, after everything he'd guided me (and Berwald) through, I couldn't help wondering if he'd known, back then or even earlier, far more than he let on. Maybe Berwald and Søren and I were not selected for admission by accident. Was this all part of China's master plan?

Maybe he knew everything all along.

I didn't like this line of thought. It made a lump form in my throat to even consider any sort of perfidy on China's part. Every effort towards saving Berwald had been thanks to him, and while he did have motives of his own—wanting the Founders to finally find peace and making sure their beloved school would be left in good hands—I felt certain that he genuinely cared about me, about Berwald, about every student at Saint Hetalia including those inadvertently hurt during his Tournament.

But I had to know.

"China?" I said. My voice was as dry as my hands were wet, wringing sweaty and nervous in lap.

His face was as serene as ever, but had a tired quality. "Please," he said, fixing his dark, almond-shaped eyes on my face, "call me Yao. I think it's only appropriate after everything we've been through together."

"Alright," I replied, feeling uncharacteristically shy all of the sudden. "Yao?"

"What is it, Tino?"

My sweat-slick hands started to worry the hem of my sweater. We were talking on familiar terms now, but it somehow made me feel even more awkward. My eyes darted to the side. "Yao, did you know all of this? I mean…." If there was way to ask this without sounding like I was accusing him of something, I couldn't think of it, so I spit the words out quickly to rid my mouth of any unpleasant taste they left. "Did you know that Berwald was hosting Torvald's spirit? Or that I had summoned the spirit in the first place? Or that Torvald was the one who had hurt all those people in Berwald's life?"

It was a lot to be asked in less than ten seconds and China, Yao, looked understandably surprised. He blinked several times without making a sound.

"T'no…?" Berwald uttered, similarly stunned by my outburst.

"No, no," China said, shaking his head slowly with closed eyes. "Those are all perfectly good questions, and, to be honest, ones I've been waiting for you to ask. It must seem like this was all an elaborate plan I cooked up before you ever came to this school." He paused for a long moment, as if expecting me to say something.

So I did. "Was it?" I ask softly, cautiously.

"Not exactly," China answered, handling the words as delicately as I did the question. "Ever since the day I witnessed Torvald take his own life, I have been waiting for him to reemerge in some form. I could feel it deep inside me that he hadn't left this world, but the only evidence I had was intuition." He stopped for just long enough to give me a little knowing look. "It is actually intuition as much as academic excellence that has always informed our decisions of who gets into Saint Hetalia. We'd pore over student records from all over the world, get a feeling about a name."

My eyes widened slightly. "Is that why there are two Italies? And a Prussia? Because you had an intuitive feeling about them?"

China let out a small chuckle and then a sigh. "Well, the case with Prussia would take too long to tell. But Italy and Italy, yes, it was based on intuition. We got a very strong vibe from that family and decided to take both brothers when we couldn't narrow it down. Being just one year apart, we had to take them at the same time."

I nodded slowly, absorbing his explanation even though it didn't completely make sense to me. "So it was just a… feeling?"

"A rather complex feeling, to be fair," said China. "And it is always a bit different for each individual. Sometimes we Founders haven't all agreed about potential new students and it has come down to debating and voting. But the feeling about you was unanimous, Tino. And you as well, Berwald. There were never any doubts that you were both meant to be here at Saint Hetalia. And now we know why."

"Did y' have 'ny idea th't it had t' do with th' end a y' guys?" Berwald said, the first time he'd spoken more than my name since we got off the jet. I felt his arm wrap around my back and his hand settle on my shoulder, a gesture unrelated to what he was saying. "I mean, when did y' know th't yer lives were goin' t' end?"

"Oh, that?" China was completely unperturbed by the questions, of course. "Yes, for a long time we've sensed it coming."

"Nother feel'ng?" Berwald asked, not derogatory, but curious.

China nodded. "Indeed. And one that's been getting steadily stronger. That's why I've returned to my natural appearance for my current enrollment here at Saint Hetalia. I wanted to be myself when the day came."

That's right, China was a shape-shifter. Even after I had seen him demonstrate his ability right in front of my eyes, I'd completely overlooked the likely possibility that the China I was familiar with was just another disguise. But, as it turned out, it wasn't. "So, this is how you looked five-hundred years ago?" I asked, eyes fixed on his youthful face.

"Besides the addition of a little ennui and newer clothes, this is exactly how I looked on the day we carved those words into the Foundation Stone," he said. He looked down at his hands, folded neatly on his lap, and added, "I was twenty-one years old, the second youngest of the Founders, after Torvald, but considered to be the smartest. Even I didn't foresee our curse happening."

The abrupt stop of the train acted as a period at the end of his sentence. We'd reached our destination, but my brain ached to keep listening to China's story. I wanted to know more. Suddenly, I wanted to know everything he'd experienced in his long life. Now, after his time to tell stories had run out. I had to fight back hot tears as I stepped out onto the little platform.

We passed through the door and were back at the Founders' hospital. The Founders', however, were no longer there. The Student Council members were likewise absent. Even America had apparently vacated his bed, leaving Russia, cozy in his drug-coma, as the only soul present. En route to the freight elevator, China detoured slightly to pause at his bedside and pat him on the back of his large hand. "You'll be all right, friend." He said.

It was one of the most oddly touching things I'd ever seen. "You aren't afraid of him like the rest of us all are." I said, half-statement, half-question.

China considered it for a second or two before responding. "I supposed I am one of the few. You can't really tell by looking, but I can hold my own if it ever came down to a fight." Actually, I thought he looked precisely like the sort of guy who could bust out some crazy kung-fu moves and take down opponents three times his size, but it wouldn't be appropriate to say so. "It wouldn't come down to that, though," he continued. "Ivan Braginski is a good kid and I consider him a true friend."

I waited a moment in silence to see if he was going to say any more on the subject, but he didn't.

"We'd better get going," was all that he added. He turned on heel to continue on to the elevator but a little grunt stopped him in his tracks and caught my attention as well.

It wasn't Russia who'd made the noise, of course. It was Berwald. The grip he'd had on my shoulder tightened. "I… I didn' meant t'…"

I spun around and, without even thinking about it, I set Flower-Egg down on Russia's bed, wrapped my arms around Berwald and buried my face in his sweater before he could say any more. "Stop," I said into the center of his chest. "You have to stop feeling guilty for what Torvald did in your body. Promise me." It was an unrealistic demand, I knew, but I couldn't come up with any other tactic at this point. I squeezed my arms around him tighter, unrelenting until I heard him reply.

"Nnn," he muttered, finally reciprocating my embrace. His arms were so long and thick that he didn't need to exert much force for me to feel like I was being crushed against him. "I'll pr'mise if y' pr'mise t' stop blam'ng yerself fer what happen'd 'n th' cave ten years 'go. How 'bout that?"

I was able to pull back enough to look up at Berwald's face. He wasn't coy or sarcastic—not that I really expected him to be, but it would have seemed fitting for what he'd said. No, his face was gentle and serious, just like his offer. Our guilt was totally different, but I accepted the exchange as even. I could let go if it helped Berwald do the same. "It's a deal," I said, smiling warmly.

After that, we didn't need any further prodding from China to pick up the pace and get ourselves into the freight elevator. I decided to leave Flower-Egg with Russia for now because even in a coma he shouldn't be alone. And then up we went, to the ending of China's life and the new beginning of Berwald's.

The school halls were as empty as the last time I walked them and the weak light from the windows seemed to indicate that dawn was just starting to break; everyone must be back from the party by now but were still fast asleep in their beds. Berwald and I had slept on the jet, but I wondered how China was still so awake and alert.

We walked a swift path to the main atrium in the front of the school, none of us saying a word as we did. This had been my first view of the inside of Saint Hetalia Academy for Boys when I walked in through the double doors we were about to walk out through. It felt like a year ago at least, but it really had only been a matter of weeks. My time here had certainly been packed with experience so far.

I held my breath as I stepped out onto the front of the school. The Student Council and the Founders' Guild were gathered around Foundation Stone, in pairs and smaller groups, engaged in many separate conversations. America was sitting awake in a wheelchair with England orbiting around him fussily, making sure nobody got too close to his caged-up arms.

All sets of eyes found us, the three latecomers, within a second of our arrival and it felt like we were in a spotlight. Everyone had looked surprisingly relaxed a mere moment ago, but now they'd suddenly shifted into serious mode. It made me feel like a bit of a mood-killer, but there was nothing I could do about it.

Alessandro, who had been conversing with Italy and wearing a broad smile, composed his features into a more sober expression and approached China. "Well, Yao my friend, I guess it is time."

China nodded. "Yes, it is time."

The Founders didn't need to be told any instructions to know what to do; they lined themselves up in front of the Foundation Stone, facing the school, and stood as regally as gods. The Student Council members stayed in their scattered positions, looking nervous and just a tad confused. China had to intervene.

"My friends," he said from the middle of the Founders lineup. "It has been my great honor and great pleasure to have served on your Student Council. You are all among the finest young men that I have ever encountered in my life. And that is saying a lot. Now we Founders of Saint Hetalia will move on to the next life and leave the school to a new generation." He paused to let out a sigh so soft it was barely audible. "This day is long overdue."

As China spoke, the sun was just starting to edge up over the distant, tree-studded cliffs and the first sparkles danced on the lake's surface. The timing and the idyllic scenery imbued the ceremony with an even more magical energy. Instinctively, I reached for and found Berwald's hand.

"You've all already been briefed on the Herculean task ahead of you," China continued. "And, as you know, we Founders have prepared comprehensive texts to guide you in the running and maintaining of the school. But, in a gesture of appreciation for the great performances you all put forth during the tournament at great personally risk, we would like to each give something special to the individuals we were matched against." Then he snapped his fingers once, quickly, and each of the Founders instantly had a book in his or her hand.

My jaw went slack as I stared at China. "How did you…?"

"I am Historian _and_ Librarian," he said, as if that explained how he did it.

Really, I needed to stop expecting explanations for anything that happened at Saint Hetalia. It was magic. The thought made me squeeze Berwald's hand tighter.

The Student Council members aligned themselves with the Founders they had beaten or been beaten by, ready to receive their gifts.

"I never had a chance to congratulate you for defeating me, Germany," Ancient Egypt—Amunet—said in a velvet-smooth voice. Actually, she had been too busy sulking to congratulate him. She handed over a thick leather-bound volume that had a buckle closure on the front. "This is all the pertinent data about the school that I have personally collected through the decades. It is all the things that most people think are unimportant, but types like you and I know are quite important indeed. I am sure you will find good use for it."

German took the book and thanked her then he opened it up to the middle while Italy peeked over his shoulder. The stern blue eyes went wide. "Square centimeters in each room of the school. Exact mineral composition of the building's stones. Completion dates for every single piece of artwork."

"Sounds like the anal-retentive bible," America proclaimed. "It's perfect for you, Germany."

Next, France approached Ancient Greece—Helena—and did so with a romantic smile on his face. "It was a gift just to compete against such beautiful mademoiselle," he said, bowing down to bestow a gentlemanly kiss to her free hand. "Anything you give to me will simply be au jus."

Helena giggled, accepting his over-the-top affection much more graciously than last time. "Well, there are recipes for over fifty different kinds in my personal cookbook here," she said, nodding towards the massive tome under her arm. It was thicker than a Helsinki phonebook. "I would love for a gourmand of your caliber to have it."

"Merci beau coups," France said, accepting the enormous cookbook and hugging it to his chest. "I will make it a life goal to cook through ze entire thing."

The exchange between Japan and Germania—Leopold—was, like the both of them, very quiet and polite. "It is a collection of poems and meditations I wrote during my hike across Europe in the fifteen-hundreds," Leopold said, handing his small journal over to Japan. "Please accept it."

"Thank you," Japan said, bowing at the waist. And that was all there was to it.

England had to wheel America in front of Ancient Rome—Alessandro—to accept his gift. Despite—or perhaps because of—the fact that he was still taking pain medication, America had a huge, eager grin on his face. I got the impression that he was probably the type who woke his parents up at three o'clock in the morning on Christmas.

"I like your style, son," said Alessandro, beaming back an equivalent smile. "That's why I'm giving you the greatest book ever written. By me. And about me. It's my own detailed account of all my heroic adventures before co-founding this school."

America's eyes had gone wide as dinner plates at the word "heroic." Of course, he couldn't actually reach for the book himself, so England had to take it for him and lay it open on his lap. "Oh sweet! Illustrations!" America said. "Gory illustrations! Is that you beheading that guy?"

"The one and only," Alessandro said proudly, and I couldn't help but notice that the other Founders sort of rolled their eyes at him. Apparently their exasperation with him was somewhere along the same lines as the Student Council's exasperation for their president. "I also have a little something for the cute one," Alessandro added, and indeed there was another book in his hand. He beckoned for Italy to come over.

"For me?" Italy asked, pointing to himself.

Alessandro tousled Italy's hair in a fatherly way with his free hand. "Yeah, for you. I don't know why, but I've taken a shine to you. When you said you like to paint, it made me think of this book of renaissance portraits." He handed the book, very big but not particularly thick, to Italy. "Most of the paintings reproduced in there were destroyed in fires. So you are one of the only people in the world to see them."

"Wow! Thank you!" Italy said, enthralled with his gift. "Hey Ludwig, look what I got!" He was so happy he let a real name slip. Was there really any point in following that school standard at this moment, I wondered?

England's final exchange with the Ancient Celtic Isles—Evelyn—came next. And, from the start, it was a confrontation. His green eyes and her grey eyes seemed to shoot off sparks as they stared each other down, and I wasn't sure where the exactly the animosity was stemming from. Maybe it was mere rivalry as sorcerers, or maybe some residual resentment over the comments exchanged during their battle. After a moment, though, their looks mellowed.

"I saw a lot of potential in you, boy, when we had our match," Evelyn said (as if she hadn't lost). England's eyes rolled down and to the side, and she continued. "You think you won't be able to do it anymore, without the Arrow. But you will. It will just take some more time and a lot more work. And maybe this will help you." She handed England a book with a gilded and bejeweled cover. "My book of spells."

"Well," England said, awkwardly scratching the back of his skull with the hand not clutching the spell book. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Evelyn replied. Her thin pink lips puckered in her white face. "And I'm sorry for insulting your loverboy," she added crisply.

America made a face, overhearing this, but my attention was now turning to China. Torvald obviously didn't have anything to give, and Russia wasn't here to receive it anyways, so the last gift was from China. Of course, I wasn't an actual member of the Student Council, so I wasn't sure that there even was a gift for me. I approached China with small footsteps, not because I was nervous, but because I wanted to draw out my last chance to talk to him.

"Tino," he said, looking in my eyes while he nodded.

"Yao," I replied.

"I suppose you're wondering if I have something for you?" he asked, and before I could do more than flash him a sheepish smile, he continued talking. "Indeed I do, but it's not something that will fit in my hands. As you know, with my passing, the seat of Student Council Historian is left empty. You took on the title for the purpose of our tournament, Tino, but I think you'd be a great fit for the actual position. That is, of course, if you want it."

My heart started thrumming faster; I couldn't help being excited at such a prestigious offer. But… "I could never do the kind of job you did, Yao," I said. "I mean, you've been around for the school's entire history. And you're… brilliant."

"Well, I wouldn't expect you to do the job the same way I did," he said, and at that moment, the sunrise hit the wet surface of his eyes and made them appear to twinkle. "But you wouldn't be without guidance. Tino, what I leave to you is my entire personal library."

I felt my eyelids stretch wide open. "You mean… all those books I saw in your bedroom?"

"Yes, those," he said. "And the others, underground and in the Student Council Room. You have the raw materials to make an incredible addition to the Saint Hetalia Student Council. I believe that you will use the knowledge you gain to accomplish great things."

"He's right y' know," Berwald said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "Y'll be 'n awesome h'storian, T'no."

China's offer had put me on the brink of crying and Berwald's comment pushed me over the edge. The tears oozed silently from my eyes and over my cheeks in twin rivulets. "Thank you," I said, more breath than sound. "I… I know I won't be able to get through even a fraction of your collection, but I will read as much as I can and… I'll make sure that they pass into the right hands and are not forgotten. Thank you, Yao."

As I said my second 'Thank you,' China pulled me close with both hands and folded me up in a tight embrace. It undid me and my soundless trickles of tears became sobs against his shoulder. "I'm going to miss you… so much," I said, hiccupping between words.

"I will miss you, too, Tino," he said softly. One of his hands rubbed a gentle circle on my back. Then he pulled back and held me at arms length by both my shoulders. When I looked at his face now, I was stricken by the thick loneliness painted on his features, just beneath his usual glaze of serenity. "In the short time that I've known you, I have come to consider you a very dear friend. But you. And Berwald. And the Student Council. You all must do something that far too few of the many friends I've cared about over the decades—centuries—have been able to do. You must outlive me. That means more to me than you can even imagine."

"Outlive you?" I uttered.

"Live a long life and be happy, Tino," he said. Berwald had sidled next to me, and China—no, I should start thinking of him with the name I now called him, Yao—put his right hand on Berwald's shoulder while keeping the left on mine, like he was giving us his blessing. "And you as well, Berwald. Take care of the school and each other."

Berwald and I both turned and looked at each other and then back at Yao. "We will," I said, swallowing the thick saliva that had collected in the back of my mouth and nodding resolutely.

"Alright then," he said. "Then it is time to complete the task at hand." He used such simple words, as if what was about to take place were as mundane as the cleaning out of a cellar. But a second later he opened his mouth again and this time he spoke to everyone assembled, his voice calm and clear, but authoritative. "Student Council, Founders' Guild, bring your Artifacts to the Stone."

The circle pulled in tight around the Foundation Stone on his orders and one-by-one the owners of the Stars and Arrows placed them into their respective slots. The Council members faces seemed to disguise the twinges of loss and trepidation for their futures unaided by those pins; the Founders faces disguised elation. While this was happening, I noticed a large sledgehammer leaning against the stone. I didn't have to ask what it was for. When everyone but Yao had given up his or her Artifact, two Stars and two Arrows were still missing.

"I think that one of you should be the one to attach Torvald's Star," Yao said to me and Berwald. He handed the Star—the one that had been in my possession all along—to me, and I handed it to Berwald.

"It should be you," I said, looking up into Berwald's luminous blue-green eyes, and without needing any convincing, he pushed the Star into its perfectly carved out space.

Then Yao took a step forward and attached one Star and one Arrow, leaving one more Arrow slot. I scrunched my brow in confusion and he raised one eyebrow slightly. "I just added Ivan's pin. I believe you still have mine, Tino."

For a fraction of a second I had a sense of panic in my chest. Was he messing with me? But then I realized he was right; when I'd gotten dressed after my pre-flight shower, I'd re-pinned the arrow on my fresh shirt. Now I unpinned it with fingers slightly shaking and pressed it, the last puzzle piece, into place.

Even though I felt the tingle of anticipation through my skin that something was going to happen when I added the last Artifact, I gasped in shock and jumped back when, immediately, something did. The Seven Stars and Seven Arrows began to glow a brilliant blue-white and the bright light spread like ink over the relief image of the Saint Hetalia Crest. It filled the engraved letters that the Founders carved years ago and soon the entire Foundation Stone was emanating the blue-white light that seemed to be made of the same substance as England's magic circle.

This all happened in a span of mere seconds. When I lifted my eyes from the hypnotically glowing monument, I flinched at the sight in front of me: every one of the Founders was bathed in the same light and seemed intoxicated by it. The Student Council Members were all stricken speechless.

"Tino," Yao said, clearly though his eyes were glazed and euphoric. "You need to take the sledgehammer and destroy the Stone now."

I swallowed hard and grabbed the sledgehammer. It was even heavier than it looked; I had to keep my hands spaced far apart in order to wield it and I wasn't sure I would even be able to swing it hard enough to break the Stone. But then I felt Berwald's body press close behind me. His hands gripped the wooden handle of the sledgehammer right next to mine. This was how it should be, the two of us destroying the Foundation Stone together and breaking his possession.

Our two sets of arms moved in unison to bring the heavy steel slab up over our heads. But when it came time to strike, the hammer didn't fall; I was pulling downward, but Berwald was still holding it up. When my eyes flicked over his knuckles next to mine, I realized, with horror, that he was glowing with the same light as the Founders. Before I had time to even shriek out in alarm, the thick wooden handle of the sledgehammer had zoomed to my neck and was crushing my trachea so I couldn't breath, much less scream.

Torvald was making his last stand.

The lack of oxygen was making my eyes bulge and my vision start to darken and blur. But in the corner of my fading sight I caught movement; the members of the Student Council were flocking to my rescue and for a split-second I had a flashback to when they arrived in my dorm room to break up the fight between Berwald and Denmark. The Founders' states had gone beyond tipsy now to the point where they were catatonic. China's eyes didn't even blink. They couldn't even see what was happening.

Why didn't the light make Torvald drunk and disabled like the others? My consciousness started blinking out before I could ponder the answer.

Then suddenly the painful pressure on my throat released and I was able suck in a loud, gasping breath. The air made me lucid again, enough to see that Torvald had loosened his chokehold to retaliate. One of his arms hooked around my chest and hugged me tightly against him so I couldn't escape while the other swung the sledgehammer around us in a perfect circle, scattering his attackers by either crashing into them or forcing them to dive out of the way.

"Stay back!" he barked. His voice was like the boom of a volcano and made his chest quake against my back. "I will kill every last one of you if you try to stop me! Then I will kill every student in your precious school!"

My eyes were darting as he yelled, scanning the crumpled but—thank goodness—still moving bodies all around to try and assess who was hurt and how badly. To my relief, everyone was able to at least stagger to his feet, but they were all clearly frightened. A part of me wanted someone to attempt another rescue, but another part didn't want to anyone else to get hurt or killed. And I knew that's what would happen to anyone who didn't heed Torvald's warning. All of them together couldn't match his singular strength; the only one capable of fighting on his level was currently in a coma.

If anyone was going to stop Torvald one last time, it had to be me. But my brain was blank. I didn't even know what he wanted.

"I know what you are attempting here!" Torvald roared. "I know you are trying to get rid of me! Now that I have Astrid back you plan to tear us apart again!" He pause, heavy breaths hissing out from behind his teeth, and when he spoke again, his voice had boiled down to a menacing growl. "But I'm not going to let that happen. If I have to go, I am taking her with me. We will be together forever in our second death."

With both hands, Torvald turned me around and held me out in front of him, facing him. Even though his skin was glowing brilliant blue-white, his eyes were wide and wild and dark; no trace of the boy I loved shown through them. A sudden smirk twisted his lips up into a deranged expression that the real Berwald would never make and he shoved me back against the Foundation Stone so roughly it knocked the air out of my lungs.

"Berwald!" I shouted when I'd regained my breath. My voice was shrill with desperation. "Berwald, wake up! Come on! Just one more time!"

But Torvald just licked his lips greedily. "I've pushed that boy down to the deepest pit of his consciousness, Astrid. He's practically gone. There is no way he's coming back now. He thought he could keep you for himself and kill me off, but he was wrong. Dead wrong."

"I'm not Astrid!" I hissed as his strong hand pressed my shoulders down on the top surface of the Stone. The corner was digging into my back painfully. "And I will never love you. In fact, I hate you, Torvald." I'd never hated anyone before and the words felt like scorching hot lava spewing up from my chest and out of my mouth. "I'll never forgive you for what you've done to him and his loved ones." And then I did something that was pure impulse, something I would never do under less traumatic circumstances: I spat in his face.

Torvald didn't even flinch when my spittle sprayed his cheek. His crazy eyes narrowed down to slits, gleefully furious, and one of his hands zoomed to my neck. I barely had time to gulp in the air that I was sure was about to get cut off, but, for some reason, he didn't choke me. His curled hand held my neck down with just enough force to make me aware how easily he could strangle me if I tried to escape. He was holding me—my skull, more specifically—in place with one hand while the other raised the sledgehammer high in the air.

"I'll crush your beautiful head and the Foundation Stone with a single swing," he said. His voice was strangely quiet now, the voice of a psychopath.

It hit me like a cold wave, the realization that I was going to die. My darting eyes saw the Student Council members scrambling to come to my rescue. That is when the hardest words I'd ever spoken jumped from my mouth. "Stay back! Don't any of you try to save me!" I snapped, and there were tears in my eyes as I said it because I didn't really want to die. "He'll kill you!" If he destroyed the Foundation Stone along with me, Berwald would be free and I would be Torvald's final victim. "It's my turn to sacrifice!" This was the ultimate atonement for what I did ten years ago, the crime I'd promised not to feel guilty for anymore. Now I wouldn't need to worry about whether I could actually keep that promise.

I felt the warm tears sliding down the sides of my face, but in my heart I felt a strange calm. I lifted one hand to the menacing, beautiful face looming above me and stroked his glowing cheek softly, just like he—the real owner of that face—had done for me more than once. But my touch didn't bring him back; the eyes stayed ultramarine and evil.

"I love you, Berwald Oxenstierna," I told him, the boy buried away deeply. "When Torvald is gone, please, please don't hate yourself because he killed me. It wasn't your fault." And one more time, I said, "I love you, Berwald."

In the last moment of my life, everything around me seemed to happen in slow motion and I felt oddly aware of it all. I noticed the sun crouched low in the eastern sky, just starting its upward climb. I noticed how beautiful the school looked in the light of dawn, its stones and beams sheathed in sweet orange. I noticed the anguished looks on the faces of the Student Council members. England, who had tears in his green eyes, had to hold America in his wheelchair to keep him from leaping up and trying to be an armless hero. Italy was clinging to Germany and Germany was hugging him back. Even quiet Japan had reached out to hold hands with anything-but-subtle France.

The very last sight that my eyes took in before I squeezed them closed was the sledgehammer rushing down to split my head like a melon.

But in the next instant, I wasn't brained to death. Something inexplicable happened just in the nick of time: the Foundation Stone that had been supporting me, upon which I was about to become a human sacrifice, started to crumble beneath me and I was able to wriggle out of Torvald's grip.

My eyes shot open. Above me, Torvald's face still hovered, but he was paralyzed and his expression was frozen in a mix of shock and horror. Beneath me, the ground was shaking. It had started as a low rumble, but now it was growing into a very localized earthquake. I scrambled onto my feet, unconcerned at the moment over what had broken the Foundation Stone—my priority was getting myself and Berwald onto stable ground.

As I pulled Berwald's petrified body away from the Stone, I saw the crack in it. It was like a black lightning bolt zigzagging down the center, running deep into its core, and its origin appeared to be a bent metal axe head lodged just centimeters away from where my skull had rested seconds ago. I recognized that axe head immediately.

"Denmark!" I shouted and he stood up from where he was crouched behind the split monument, breathing heavily with sweat glistening on his forehead.

"Looks like I got here just in time," he said, grinning. "That's what I call a deus _axe_ machina."

I had never been so happy to see that grin or hear such a lame joke. "I'd thank you properly, but right now I think this whole terrace might collapse! You have to get off it!" I yelled from the safety of the sidelines.

He started to dash towards me, but something large and fast streaked up to meet him. Torvald had regained his senses and his mobility and had launched himself at Denmark. The Foundation Stone was flaking apart, but he still had strength left in him for one last fight.

Somehow Denmark seemed to know he couldn't actually hurt his opponent in physical combat—maybe it was related to how he seemed to know exactly what we were up to, destroying the Foundation Stone—so he just bobbed and weaved to avoid Torvald's fists. The Viking may have had supernatural strength, but his agility appeared to be human.

"Consider this payback for what you did to Maren!" Denmark taunted as he barely dodged a vicious uppercut. "You know, Berwald would have been an awesome brother if it weren't for you!"

"Denmark! You have to get back here!" I shouted with hands cupped around my mouth. "You have to lure him, too!"

"Grab the sledgehammer and finish destroying that glowing rock, Fin!" Denmark yelled to me. "It's the only way to fix him, right?"

But Torvald heard him, too, and his dark blue eyes flicked to the hammer he'd abandoned on the ground. Both of us dove for it at the same instant. My fingers touched the wooden handle and immediately wrapped around it, and I whipped up the sledgehammer a split-second before Torvald could get his—Berwald's—hands on it.

I swung without hesitation, wanting nothing but to end this all. I swung again, striking the same spot at the base of the Foundation Stone and sinking the head of the hammer deeper into the crater the first hit had created. I swung a third time and the Stone was decimated.

Torvald stopped moving and stopped glowing, and I realized it wasn't Torvald anymore, but Berwald, who staggered to remain upright, his strength spent. The six remaining Founders, still statue-like in the background, stopped glowing, too, but now all that remained were columns of grey ash in the shapes of humans, an oddly gruesome sight. Particles of them were lifting and swirling in the air and if a strong breeze were to suddenly rip through, I knew they would disperse completely into dust.

The shaking didn't stop, though, like I expected it to. What remained of the Foundation Stone sank down into the terrace and the surrounding bricks started to follow, creating a rapidly growing sinkhole.

The Student Council jumped into action, rushing over to get me and Berwald and Denmark the hell out of there. France and Italy grabbed me by my arms and pulled me onto solid ground just before the bricks beneath my feet fell away. Germany and Japan got Berwald to safety with similar, perfect timing. But England's fingers just barely reached Denmark when the spot he was standing on collapsed. England had to leap back and Denmark was swallowed by the black hole along with the powdery remains of the Saint Hetalia Founders.

Less than a second later, the shaking stopped.

We were all in a sort of pile in the sand, holding onto each other, panting to catch our breaths, and staring at what used to be the front terrace of Saint Hetalia Academy for Boys. My hands were hooked so tightly around Berwald I could feel his pulse and my eyes were fixed on the spot were Denmark had just vanished.

"He's gone," I sobbed. "Denmark… Søren, he saved both of us and now he's… he's just… he's gone…"

Berwald squeezed me snuggly against him, pressed my hair against his cheek. I felt something wet on my scalp and I realized that Berwald was crying, too. As much anguish as I'd seen him in, I don't think I'd ever experienced his tears. "T'rvald woulda kill'd y' if 't weren't fer Sør'n. He was… hero'c 'n th' truest sense."

The Student Council members were all silent and somber; I don't think any of them had known Denmark personally, but they recognized the magnitude of what he had just done and all gave him the respect he had earned. England was different, however. I could hear him muttering to himself, crying, and when I tore my eyes off of the ruins to look at him, he was tucked in a tight ball next to America's wheelchair.

"I should have been quicker," he squeaked softly. "If I had gotten to him just two seconds sooner… or if I'd been able to use my magic…"

America was trying his best to soothe him. "It's not your fault, Arthur. I should've been able to help you. The others all got to be teams of two. You were just unlucky enough to be teamed with the injured me. And Denmark… he was a lot further in than the others. It was just really, really bad luck. If you had gotten there sooner…" He stopped and swallowed what I figured was a very uncomfortable thought. "If you'd gotten there sooner, you might have gotten pulled down, too."

England hugged America's knee and cried against it. America cried, too. There wasn't a dry eye present.

"I know I'm not supposed to say anything, since, technically, I am still being shunned, but why are you all crying like a bunch of girls?"

Seven heads turned in unison towards the voice. Denmark was limping over to join us, his clothing torn, his skin a roadmap of cups and scrapes. His left eye was swollen closed and he was holding one arm with the other. "Thanks for not helping me climb out of that hole, by the way. It was just the workout my morning needed." Yes, he was sarcastic, but he didn't seem genuinely upset with any of us. He was smiling.

I was smiling, too, one of those ridiculously goofy smiles that can't be faked. "Søren! You're alive!"

"Just a little fall," he said. "No big deal." Despite his assertion, though, he winced as he sank down to sit in the sand next to Berwald and me.

"Y' were amazing," Berwald said. "I can't b'lieve y' did that, 'specially since y' hate me."

"How did you know what was going on?" I asked, caught up in bafflement.

Denmark scratched the back of his neck with his good hand. "Well, the thing I discovered about being shunned is that you can sneak around a lot more easily without people noticing you. I've been following you around for days to find out what you were up to. That's how I found out what was really going on… who really killed my sister and the other Finland."

"So you know it wasn't Berwald?" I said, inclining closer to him.

His face took on a serious, penitent expression that he aimed more at Berwald than at me. "Yeah," he said. "I know that I was wrong. That my hatred was unfounded."

"Just misaimed," I corrected. "And you had no way of knowing. But I hope that the two of you can be friends again. The way you should have been as kids."

"I guess I'm will'ng t' start ov'r 'f you 're," Berwald said with just a hint of grumble.

"Yeah, I'm ready for a fresh start," Denmark said, a gentler version of his handsome smile returning to his face. "That is, as soon as my shunning is lifted. What do you say, Student Council? Have I earned the right to talk again?"

"Consider your sentence served," America said cheerily. "Welcome back to the world of the talking, hero."

"So I assume you still want to keep living with Ber, eh Finny?" Denmark asked. There was a tiny trace of loneliness on his face, but I could tell that he already knew my answer.

"Yeah, I'm going to stay with him," I said, exchanging a quick glance with Berwald. "But you know, I think Norway would be a perfect roommate for you. He likes you. And Iceland has been whining about wanting his own room anyways."

"Really?" Denmark was looking down, slightly surprised but clearly happy. "Yeah, I think I might like that. And we'll still all sit together at meals. All five of us."

"I guess things are going to get really normal now, huh?" I wondered out loud. I knew it was a good thing, but I still worried about how things would be between Berwald and I from now on.

"Norm'l 's good," he said. "Peacef'l."

But I felt I had to do something, some gesture to show him that my interest in him wasn't going to fade just because his curse was gone. I turned and looked into his beautiful blue-green eyes, the same eyes that had entranced me from the moment I first saw them. "I know it's still months away, but I want you to spend the winter holiday in Finland with me and my family, Berwald. You can spend every holiday with me from now on if you'd like. What do you say?"

I watched his face anxiously, hoping for a resounding 'yes' but worried he might not be so sure. Berwald didn't say 'yes.' He didn't say anything. His reply was a little smile that I couldn't figure out until his hand swooped behind my head and pulled my mouth against his. A real kiss. With Berwald. It was as perfect as any kiss could be, felt like an electric current of euphoria was passing from Berwald's lips to mine. Every inch of me was tingling, every nerve excited. I didn't want it to end, but we both had to surface for air eventually.

"Is that a yes?" I asked, still breathless.

Berwald smiled at me, the happiest smile I'd ever seen on him. "Yes," he said. "I love y' T'no."

"I love you, too, Berwald," I said, sniffing back tears of joy. "You'll never be an outcast again." And then I leaned in and kissed him again for good measure, knowing there would be many more ahead of us.

**The End**

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**Epilogue**

My shoes sink slightly into the loamy ground as I make my way up the last little hill. I can tell that it rained recently. From the top, I can finally see the towers and spires of Saint Hetalya Academy for Boys and Girls. It still looks the same as it did ten years ago, even though the name has been tweaked. During my second year there, the first without the Founders' Guild, the school returned to being coed.

A cluster of figures, their features are too distant to make out distinctly, is gathered on the lakeshore in front of the school. One of them waves to me and I wave back.

"Hurry up, Berwald," I yell back over my shoulder. "They're already waiting for us."

I'm not really impatient with him, and I know why he's moving slower than I am, but I am just so excited I can barely contain myself. I wait the minute or two it takes for Berwald to reach my side and grab hold of his hand before we head down to the shore together.

"I didn' want t' jostl' 'im too much," he says, nodding down at the bulging cloth sling across his chest.

"I know," I say, peeking into the little bundle and smiling uncontrollably. "I didn't mean to rush you. He's still sound asleep."

"Bet Sør'n'll wake 'im up w'thin th' f'rst minute," Berwald says, shaking his head slightly.

"We'll just have to wait and see," I say optimistically.

Søren is the first one to greet us in front of the school, also the one who'd waved at me. He is grinning, even more handsome at twenty-six than he had been at sixteen—though he will still always take a back seat to Berwald in my mind. Olaf, the man I'd called Norway when he was just a boy, is close at his right. Sigurd, our former Iceland, is at his left, somewhat less close.

"About time you two showed up," Søren booms in a jovial voice. "But man is it great to see you again. I don't think we've all been together since the wedding. I still can't believe you two got hitched. And now this." He is talking very loudly and very quickly, but he pauses to gesture towards the bundle against Berwald's chest, which is just now starting to squirm. "So are you going to let us see him?"

I can't even be mad at Søren for his volume because I am so excited to show this little guy off. With a wide grin, I reach into the sling with both hands and pull out what I can't help thinking is the most beautiful baby in the world. He's awake, his blue eyes wide open and curious, not emitting even a whimper as he gums a chubby little fist.

"Here he is," I say, chest welling with joy. "Peter Søren Oxenstierna. Berwald's and my son." We hadn't told Søren yet that we'd decided to use his name for our baby's middle name, and the happy shock on his face makes it well worth the wait. "What do you think?"

"He's adorable," Søren coos, joyful tears in the corners of his eyes. "He's got some interesting eyebrows on him, though. Were his biological parents English?"

My lips pucker into a small frown, but it is not a serious frown. I know he is just making a joke because Peter's eyebrows do bear a certain resemblance to our old friend, Arthur Kirkland. "I don't know. But it doesn't matter," I say, leaning down to kiss Peter's fat cheek. "He's ours now."

"Man, that makes me want one, too," Søren says dreamily and Olaf shoots him a curious look. They are business partners now, but business partners who, rather suspiciously, also happen to live together. Søren's feelings about wanting a baby definitely seem to interest him.

Sigurd is a geologist and still a good friend. All five of us are good friends. But there is another group of friends we are waiting for before we go inside.

"A baby! Cuuuu~ute!" The voice that cuts through the air is too high and sweet to belong to an adult, and indeed, when I look down the beach, there is a very small girl hurtling towards us. She has pigtails and huge green eyes behind plastic glasses. Running after her are two more familiar faces.

"Iggy slow down!" Alfred yells. "You'll trip!"

"Ingrid!" Arthur yells. "Ingrid!"

The little girl, Ingrid, is standing in front of us now, staring up at little Peter in adoration. "Mommy! Papa! Look at the cute little baby!" she says.

"He is a very cute baby," America says, squatting down next to Ingrid so that they're almost the same height.

"Mommy, I want upsies," she says latching her little hands around Alfred's neck.

"You got it, Pumpkin," he says, wrapping his arms around her and standing with her. He kisses her and turns to beam at me. "Hey Tino, Berwald, and the rest of you guys. Long time, no see." He sets his eyes on Peter and his grin somehow spreads even wider. "I see we're not the only ones who've joined the parent club."

"Name's Pet'r," Berwald says. "B'came ours a month 'go."

"Peter," Ingrid says in awe, her eyes as big as saucers. "Mommy, I want a baby brother."

"You'll have to ask your Papa about that, Iggy," Alfred tells her. Then he turns back to us. "This is our Iggy, by the way. She's almost three now."

"She's precious," I say, and I honestly mean it.

"Ingrid," Arthur huffs, still catching his breath from the sprint over. "Her name is _Ingrid_, after my mother." He leans over to kiss his daughter's forehead. "Ingrid dear, what did we say about daddies and mommies?"

The little girl puffs out her lower lip in an expression that is shockingly Alfred-like. "Daddies are boys and mommies are girls."

"That's right," says Arthur sweetly. "It's Papa and Daddy, not Papa and Mommy."

"But Mo… Daddy said I came from his egg," little Ingrid says and immediately Arthur makes a horrified expression.

"You're a teacher, Arthur," Alfred says sheepishly. "I thought you'd want her to be properly educated about where she came from."

"I'm a professor of English literature," Arthur says stiffly. "I educate people about Dickens and Shakespeare, not human biology. And she's two, for crying out loud!"

Berwald and I turn and look at each other, utterly confused, then back at the other family.

Alfred is all too eager to explain. "Basically, they took an egg donated by my sis, scooped out her genetic data and injected mine and then fertilized it with Artie's… uh, you know. Then they put it in Sis's tummy and nine months later we had our Iggy."

_So that's why she looks remarkably like both of them_, I think to myself. I'd heard that Americans liked to go to extreme measures to have their own biological children, but I had no idea they were making babies from two dads already. But just because Peter is adopted doesn't make him any less ours.

I remember when I first brought Berwald home to Finland with me and had introduced him as my boyfriend to my mom and dad. They'd been surprised for sure, but they just wanted me to be happy. Mom cried tears of joy at our wedding and when I told her that we wanted to have a family and give her grandchildren she cried again. Peter is already being so spoiled by his grandparents it's a bit ridiculous.

And, of course, Berwald is just crazy about him, too. There is no sweeter sight to me than when I watch from the nursery doorway as Berwald rocks Peter in his arms and sings softly to him in Swedish—I asked him about it once and he told me it was a song his own mother had sung to him when he was little. Then, when the baby has fallen back asleep, he comes over to kiss me and we go back to our bedroom together.

Sometimes I can't believe how wonderful my life has become thanks to Berwald coming into it. Thanks to Saint Hetalia. There are sad things, as well, of course. Last spring, the original Flower-Egg went to be with Berwald's parents, and Maren, and Yao. Her successor is named Hanatamago—a Japanese twist on our first dog's name—and looks almost exactly the same. But we will never forget Flower-Egg.

As I am sighing over the memory, Berwald puts his arm around me. More old friends have arrived. Francis Bonnefoy, perhaps the world's most famous chef, is here with his current lover, an island beauty with mocha skin and long dark hair. Apparently she is an alumnus of Saint Hetalia as well.

Ivan Braginski is here, too. I remember watching him win a gold medal for boxing at the Olympics two years ago, and another four years before that. He pats me on the head with a massive hand. He'd made a remarkable recovery after Torvald nearly killed him; the only brain damage he suffered was to the area that caused his Blood Rage. He never suffered from it again.

Ludwig and Feliciano have come together, of course. They haven't changed a bit as far as I can tell, except that now they are an engineer and a painter respectively. Kiku Honda is present and perfectly poised. He is president of a Japanese publishing house that I recently read signed some sort of big book deal with a Greek writer we all know. I somehow doubt that it is by coincidence.

I actually spoke to Kiku on the phone more recently than the other former Student Council members. He wants to release my first novel in Japan next year, which is very exciting. They also are trying to put together a full-color book of Berwald's creations. Only twenty-six and he is the most sought-after furniture designers in all of Europe. I always knew he had it in him.

Once everyone has taken the time to say their hellos and fawn over the children Feliciano chirps, "So, are we going to go inside? I'm getting hungry!"

"I want cupcakes!" little Ingrid chimes from her perch on Alfred's shoulders. "With blue frosting."

"I don't know if they'll have cupcakes, dear," Arthur says, making her pout cutely. "The party is because they are opening a new museum."

"But I eat blue cupcakes at Mo… at Daddy's you-see-em all the time. Pale-o-lentologists love cupcakes."

"Whatever they've got, I'm sure it's better than Papa's cooking," says Alfred as they climb the step up onto the rebuilt terrace.

The others follow one after the other.

Berwald and I each give our son another kiss before tucking him back into his snug sling, and then we make the ascent hand-in-hand. We pause in front of the new monument, the one the Student Council that I was a part of installed. It looks like the original Foundation Stone and even includes the school crest. But a new inscription is below it: _Be at peace._ It is a message for the Founders as well as every student who comes to Saint Hetalya.

Today we are celebrating the official opening of the Saint Hetalya Founders' Museum, a project all of us have been working on for years. It is housed in the underground of the school, where the Founders' lived for far longer than most of the attendees will ever realize, and is meant to showcase their dream and how they made it happened. Only a few of us know the whole story, of course. I see this day not only as a celebration of the school that shaped my whole adult life, the school where I found true friendship and true love, but as a fitting tribute to a man who'd helped me more than he ever realized.

I squeeze Berwald's hand and we pass through the double doors once again.


End file.
